Bardsong
by Sylmenya
Summary: A Bard from Valdemar wanders into the territory of a Tayledras clan, upsetting a powerful evil mage as he does so. Contains male/male romance, as well as some violence and suggestions of torture/unwelcome seduction.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note

This story is set in the Pelagir hills about a generation after Vanyel's adventures in the _Last Herald-Mage_ trilogy. I chose the Tayledras very deliberately to reflect the characters I was writing. After finishing the story, I discovered other characters in other stories who share names with some of my characters. This is pure coincidence, and is not intended to infringe upon any other stories. I simply invented names that suit my characters. I would also like to thank Mendeia for agreeing to be my beta.

Warning: contains some male/male romance (nothing beyond what you might see in a PG-13 movie) as well as suggestions of torture and non-consensual seduction.

Disclaimer: Although the characters are my own, the world belongs exclusively to Mercedes Lackey, and I do not make a profit from this story. I am just borrowing her world and a few phrases from her writings for my own purposes.

Chapter 1

_As birds from Winter's gloom awoke to sing_

_And early flow'rs their perfume forth did fling_

_A solitary horseman outward rode—_

_Behind him on his horse a lute was stowed._

_His clothes of Scarlet to the world displayed_

_A Bard he was and at each stop he played._

_His golden voice the list'ners mesmerized_

_His chestnut curls his audience all prized._

_From Haven southward wended he his way_

_At Kata'shin'a'in his songs to play._

_Yet ere his journey brought him to its end_

_Waylaid he was by beasts with claws to rend._

—From "The Defeat of Sasseth" by Summersong k'Vala

Kamren lounged in one of the hot pools of k'Vala Vale, trying to soak some of the tension from his sore muscles. He had only been out of bed for a few hours when the Council meeting had been called, and he was still recovering from his wounds. And the meeting of the Council of Elders hadn't been all that relaxing, either. It was now past sunset, and the Council had met first thing in the morning to discuss the strange creatures that had attacked Kamren right on the edge of Hawkbrother territory. He shivered despite the steam rising from the surface of the pool. He could still see all too clearly the sharp serpent fangs and pointy ferret faces of the three creatures that had chased him for what felt like months, though it had really only been a few long days before they cornered him.

Fortunately for Kamren, a Hawkbrother patrol had happened to be nearby, and had come running to his rescue. Even more fortunate, one of the members of the patrol had been a Healer. Not that he remembered being rescued; it hadn't taken the creatures long at all to render him senseless. Kamren remembered nothing of the journey to k'Vala Vale. Winddancer, the Hawkbrother who had been tending him, told Kamren that it had been a journey of three days, and that he had lain in a delirious fever for three more before he finally awoke to find himself in one of the strangest places he had ever seen. It seemed at first to be a room made entirely of wood, with beams made of whole, uncut logs, branching in realistic tree-like patterns across both the ceiling and floor. The whole room seemed slightly unsteady, as if it rocked at anchor on a calm sea. It was not until Kamren was able to rise from his bed and make his wobbly-kneed way to the window that he realized that the room was actually built in a tree, with living branches forming the supports for floor, walls and roof. This prompted another wave of dizziness, and Kamren had hurried back to his bed as quickly as his injured body would take him there.

Kamren shook off the memory, wondering at how quickly he had become used to the tree houses of the Hawkbrothers. The Council had been called together as soon as Kamren had been well enough to attend, though his body now protested the long hours of argument. He had not participated much in the Council session, mostly just describing his nightmarish journey into the Pelagir Hills, pursued by the strange creatures. Listening to the arguments about what the creatures were (for Kamren's benefit, they used the tradetongue commonly used by the people of Rethwellen when they did business with the Shin'a'in), whether they had been artificially created and by whom, and where the mage who created them could possibly live had been exhausting and more than a little frightening. In the end, the council had determined that the misborn, as they called them, were indeed Changebeasts, created by some powerful mage hitherto unknown to the Hawkbrothers. It was agreed that something must be done, but first they had to find out where this mage was hiding. To that purpose, scouts and mages had been sent out past the edges of Hawkbrother territory. The rest of the Vale would stay and wait for news, concocting plans of what to do about the mage once he could be found.

Kamren, of course, knew little or nothing about mages or Changebeasts, though he had learned more than he cared to at the meeting. His head swam with everything he had heard, and the steam rising from the pool made his eyelids droop. Slowly, the steam rising from the pool began taking on the shapes of hideous beasts with long, serpentine necks, until Kamren lost track of everything but the half-feline, half-serpent forms.

_He looked forward again, just in time to avoid the branch that aimed itself directly at his head. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped into his eyes, making them sting. His normally unruly curls were plastered against his neck, except for the one that bounced maddeningly against his nose. He couldn't spare a hand, either to restrain his hair or to wipe the sweat out of his eyes; both hands were busy clinging desperately to the saddle. The horse stumbled, righting itself quickly, never slowing his headlong rush. Kamren risked another glance over his shoulder, and immediately wished he hadn't. The three beasts were now so close that he could hear their panting breaths. The leader's tongue, long and snake-like and forked at the end, lolled from its mouth between two-inch fangs. The face itself, though vaguely feline with tufted ears, was narrow like a ferret's, with cruel slitted eyes. Legs like a greyhound's carried it as fast as Kamren's horse could run._

_Kamren knew he couldn't outrun them much longer. His horse was exhausted from three days of relentless pursuit. The creatures were unwilling or unable to continue the hunt by night, but they drove Kamren from sunrise to sunset. Kamren didn't think his horse would make it until evening; he could feel its flanks heaving between his knees and it was barely noon._

_The horse stumbled again, this time going to his knees before he regained his footing. Kamren lurched forward out of the saddle, hitting his nose painfully on his mount's neck. His lute jarred against his spine, and he hoped it was padded well enough to avoid damage. Not that it looked as if he would ever play it again. He had no illusions about what those teeth could do to human flesh if given the chance. He really needed to find a defensible place in which to turn and fight. Running was quickly losing its status as a viable option._

_As if some kind deity had heard his wish, they burst into a clearing. There was a small hill with two large boulders side by side, and he urged his horse to one final spurt. His pursuers were so close he could feel the heat of their breath. The smell of rancid meat wafted over him. His heart pounding so loud he could barely hear anything else above it, he threw himself toward the crack between the boulders and tried desperately to wrench his sword free of its sheath, trying to ignore the scream of terror and pain from his horse behind him. There was no room between the rocks for an animal that large. By the time he had drawn his sword and turned himself face outwards in the crevice, bones, tail, and saddlebags were all that was left of the horse. Even as he watched, those were devoured, as well._

_Kamren stood panting, the sword shaking in his trembling hand, his heart hammering so hard it made him dizzy. Three pairs of slit-pupiled eyes stared at him for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Then the leader, snake-like tail lashing in horrible imitation of a cat that has cornered a mouse, opened its mouth in a hissing scream of rage and triumph. As one, the creatures leaped forward. Kamren waved the sword wildly, terror making him forget what little training he had managed to acquire. Claws and teeth, too many to count, raked at him. The stench of rotting meat came to his nostrils and hot pain erupted across his cheek. He tasted blood as the world went dark and he felt himself falling…_

Suddenly he felt himself lifted by the armpits and hauled half-way out of the pool. His eyes snapped open and he turned his head sharply to see who had grabbed him. His head throbbed with the sudden movement, and his vision momentarily blurred.

"What's going on?" he asked, bewildered, then remembered that no one here spoke Valdemaran. He repeated the question in the Shin'a'in tradetongue.

"You very nearly fell asleep at the bottom of this pool," the voice of his caretaker, Winddancer, laughed. "You are tired, and not yet used to the heat of the soaking pools. Come, we should put you to bed."

Kamren, weak-kneed from the heat and his long convalescence, not to mention his nightmare, had some difficulty climbing from the pool. Winddancer offered his hand to Kamren, who took it gratefully and scrambled out of the pool, blushing scarlet as he suddenly realized that he was completely naked. Winddancer politely turned his back, an amused smile playing at the edges of his mouth, while Kamren toweled off and dressed as hurriedly as he could.

"My apologies, Kamren," he said sincerely once Kamren was dressed. "We in the Vales are so used to nudity because of the communal soaking pools that I had forgotten most other people come from more modest societies."

Kamren blushed again. "No problem," he said shortly. "I am just unused to it. As long as I am a guest in your Vale, I should get used to your customs."

The two men started up the slope toward the tree in which Winddancer made his home. "Well, we'll just keep you in private pools until you're more comfortable with the idea," Winddancer said with a smile. "Now be careful while climbing the ladder. Don't forget, you've been essentially asleep for the past six days, and your body needs to regain some strength. I'm right behind you in case you slip."

Kamren climbed slowly and painfully up the wooden ladder leading into Winddancer's dwelling. Once at the top, he collapsed onto a pile of cushions in one corner to rest a moment. He looked around the room, bare of furniture except for the large perch in the other corner by the window. A huge, snow-white owl sat there, blinking slowly at him. The owl had faint grey barring on breast and wings, but this just added to the overall impression that Kamren was looking at the ghost of an owl. Even the eyes were pale, shining faintly pink in the dim light.

Winddancer emerged through the floor a moment later, and following Kamren's gaze, looked over at the owl. He held out his arm, and the large bird silently glided over and perched on it, moving quickly up to Winddancer's shoulder. Even so, Winddancer had to brace himself as the weight of the bird settled on his wrist, and he ducked his head to allow the owl to fold his wings. He grimaced, but there was fondness in his tone when he spoke.

"This is Hwaar, my bondbird. All Tayledras bond to at least one bird, though most do not bond to one this large. I don't usually carry him long, though most bondbirds are able to ride on their bondmates' shoulders fairly comfortably. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to bond with the second-largest breed available. I often think I should have chosen a smaller owl or a falcon," he added with a sidelong glance at his bird. Hwaar made an indignant-sounding squawk and bumped Winddancer's head with his beak. Winddancer shifted his weight slightly with the push, though it was obviously playful. He laughed, and moved closer to Kamren, near enough that Kamren could have reached out and touched the enormous bird. He had never seen an owl that big.

"He likes to have his chest stroked," Winddancer offered. "Though I should warn you now: don't offer to handle any bondbird unless you have permission. Some of them can get defensive. Hwaar doesn't mind as long as you don't try and get too familiar. Just keep to the chest area and you'll be fine." Kamren reached out tentatively and ran a couple fingers down the bird's snowy chest feathers. They were even softer than they looked, and he carefully stroked him a few more times. From this distance, Kamren could see that from underneath, the owl was completely white. Just a few faint grey stripes showed on the tops of the wings. Hwaar rumbled softly deep in his chest, and Kamren jumped, then resumed the stroking at the encouraging look on Winddancer's face.

"He likes you," the Hawkbrother said. "He makes that sound when he's content." Winddancer allowed Kamren to pet the bird another minute or so, then stood up and extended his arm.

"All right, deadweight. I should take care of my guest. And you should go hunt. Aren't you hungry? You've been sleeping all day." Winddancer launched the bird with practiced coordination as Hwaar sidled down his arm, allowing the weight of the owl to add momentum to the movement. Hwaar glided straight out the window, clearing it with an inch to spare on either side. Kamren now realized why the window was so wide. The bird's wingspan was easily five feet.

Winddancer watched him go, then went into another room briefly before returning with two glasses containing what looked like some sort of fruit juice. "Here, this will help you recover your strength; it's quite nourishing," he said, offering one of the glasses to Kamren. "I think you'll like it, but be warned: it's very sweet."

Kamren sipped cautiously at the bright yellow-orange liquid, then took a longer swallow as he found that it was, as Winddancer had predicted, quite tasty. The drink was very refreshing, and after a few minutes Kamren felt he could make his way back to bed. Winddancer followed watchfully, ready to catch Kamren should he exhibit any signs of returning dizziness, but the Bard made it to the bed without mishap.

As he crawled under the light covers, Kamren suddenly realized that he had only seen one bed in the house. From the outside, at least, the tree house did not appear to be large enough to contain another bedroom. Suddenly contrite, he asked, "Have I been using your bed all the time? I do not wish to exile you in your own home!"

Winddancer reassured him. "I am quite comfortable sleeping on the floor. There are plenty of pillows and blankets in which to make a nest. Until quite recently, you were in such a state that it was necessary to give you the bed. Had you been a Tayledras, and not injured, I would probably have simply shared the bed, but I did not wish to make you uncomfortable." He smiled again, and Kamren noticed how Winddancer's entire face lit up when he smiled.

Kamren marveled once again at his caretaker. Winddancer, and indeed all the Hawkbrothers, or _Tayledras_ as they called themselves, looked so different from the Valdemarans Kamren was used to seeing. Many of the Hawkbrothers wore their hair long, some past the waist. Most of the Hawkbrothers Kamren had seen, Winddancer included, had pure white hair, though it did not seem to be a symptom of age. Winddancer was certainly no older than Kamren. Some of the other Hawkbrothers dyed their hair mottled brown, in a pattern that Kamren imagined would blend in very well with the forest surroundings. All the Hawkbrothers had pale blue eyes and light golden skin, similar to the stories Kamren had heard about the Shin'a'in. They, too, it was said, had golden skin, blue eyes, and wore their black hair long. If Kamren had known the turn his journey would take, he probably would not have tried to visit the Shin'a'in. He shivered, and focused his attention back on his new friend.

Winddancer's hair hung to his waist. Into it he had braided a wide assortment of beads, bells, and feathers of various brown and golden hues, standing out sharply amid the silver-white. When he moved, the beads and bells tinkled musically, almost like an exotic wind chime. His outfit was equally outlandish to the Bard's unfamiliar gaze. He wore a robe of amber and brown silk, cleverly embroidered to imitate the plumage of an owl. "Feathers" of silk hung from his shoulders and the undersides of his sleeves, and the hem of the robe was sharply scalloped, imitating the appearance of feathers. The sleeves and front of the robe were still somewhat damp, reminders of his rescue of Kamren from the pool earlier. Kamren, watching as Winddancer prepared his nest of pillows on the floor, fell asleep to the gentle tinkling of hair ornaments.

* * *

A few evenings later, Winddancer invited him to attend or, if he felt up to it, participate in a Tayledras-style musical concert. Kamren was delighted, not only at the chance to perform for a new audience, but also at the opportunity to listen to and maybe even learn some Hawkbrother music.

"Only…" Kamren hesitated, looking down at his travel-worn garments. "Most of my clothes were in the saddlebags. I do not think any of it survived those…things." He shuddered, suddenly very grateful that his lute had been strapped to his own back, rather than with the rest of his luggage.

"I might be able to find something that would suit you; you are slimmer than I am, though nearly the same height," Winddancer assured him. "Am I correct that you would prefer red, as the symbol of your office?" he asked, obviously having noticed Kamren's red tunic and cloak.

At Kamren's surprised nod, Winddancer disappeared into an upper room, returning shortly with red and blue silks spilling out of his arms. "Here, try this," he suggested, offering a scarlet tunic and leggings to Kamren. The tunic laced up the front, leaving the neck free, and ample sleeves were gathered at the wrist in cuffs wide enough to keep the surplus fabric from getting in the way. The leggings laced up the sides as well, and Kamren pulled the laces as tight as they would go, feeling a little embarrassed to show that much skin. Fortunately, it seemed that his legs were less well-muscled than Winddancer's, and Kamren was able to pull the edges of the fabric almost completely together. There were knee-high boots and a long vest of soft leather, also dyed bright scarlet, with fringe hanging halfway down his calves. The vest and tunic were intricately embroidered with gold threads. On the whole, Kamren was actually quite pleased with his outlandish garb.

He looked up to find that Winddancer had also changed, into a flowing tunic that somehow gave the impression of a waterfall in various shades of blue and white. Fringe hung past his knees and off his shoulders, stirring in the smallest breeze. At the moment the fringe was swaying wildly as Winddancer braided matching fringe and small feathers into his long hair, heightening the impression of a waterfall.

Winddancer led Kamren across the Vale to the clearing where the Council had been held. "We thought," Winddancer observed just before they entered the clearing, "that, as you are a musician, this would be an appropriate way to welcome you to k'Vala Vale."

The first thing Kamren noticed was that the clearing was lit softly by globes of light that hung in the air under the branches of the trees forming the perimeter of the circle. The globes floated free, bobbing slightly though there was no breeze. Kamren noticed that they were variously hued in shades of pale green, blue, yellow, or white. But before he could give in to astonishment, his attention was captured by the brightly-clad Hawkbrothers sitting under those trees on roots that were too conveniently shaped to be coincidence, or on similarly handy rocks. Bondbirds perched on the overhanging branches. Even as Kamren stared in amazement, Hwaar came gliding in to perch on one of the larger boughs, settling himself with a silent flip of his wings beside a slightly larger, though not as ghostly white, owl.

As they entered the clearing, Kamren realized that the "concert", if it could be called that, was already underway. All eyes were fixed on the Tayledras woman standing in the center of the circle. Her hair was much shorter than Winddancer's, hanging just past her ears. It was dyed mottled brown, proclaiming her to be a scout, and the ends were ragged, as if she had cut it herself. Her outfit, while definitely wilder than anything Kamren had ever seen in Valdemar, was tame compared with Winddancer's or even his own. She wore a midnight blue tunic and loose trews, with darker silhouettes of birds of prey barely visible against the dark fabric. There was no fringe, and somehow the outfit gave the impression of being easy to move it. Should she need to go somewhere in a hurry, or defend herself against an attack, her clothing would not impede her. Under the short sleeves of her tunic, Kamren could see the well-defined muscles of her arms.

Like most Hawkbrothers, the scout woman was breathtakingly beautiful, but what captured Kamren's attention were her eyes. She looked around the clearing slowly, waiting until she had everyone's attention. Her ice-blue eyes swept across the faces at the edge of the clearing, but they didn't seem to see anyone but the two men who had just entered. There was no warmth in them. Kamren suddenly felt very self-conscious in his unfamiliar garb, clutching his lute in front of him. Beside him, Winddancer ducked his head, motioning toward a wide up-thrust root that seemed perfectly positioned as a bench. Around them, absolute silence reigned as the other Hawkbrothers waited motionless.

As Kamren and Winddancer quietly seated themselves, the woman began to sing, accompanying herself on a small hand drum. Though Kamren didn't understand the words, he found himself lost in the melody. It was a thoughtful, almost sad, song, with the drumbeats punctuating it like raindrops falling on wet leaves, or a steady, slow heartbeat. Her voice was sweet and lyrical, and the song she sang flowed through the clearing, catching up her audience as if in an irresistible current. Kamren allowed himself to be carried along, though a small part of him that would always be a Bard couldn't help but pay attention to her musicianship. Try as he would, Kamren could not tell if she had a slight hint of the Bardic Gift, or if she was simply an excellent musician who understood and felt the music strongly. As she finished, she glanced at Winddancer with an unreadable expression in her cold eyes before turning to take a seat across the clearing, leaving Kamren still wondering about the possibility of a Gift.

There was a moment of silence before the Tayledras applauded, then another rose and shifted the mood with a livelier tune. Kamren watched and listened with delight as others followed, each taking a turn at performing whenever they wished, some vocally and some instrumentally. Some prefaced their music in the trade tongue or in Tayledras (which Winddancer translated for Kamren), while others performed with no introduction. Several of the instruments resembled those that Kamren was familiar with, but some were completely unlike any he had ever encountered.

After several Hawkbrothers had performed to the applause of their fellows, Kamren rose, taking his lute with him into the center of the circle. He paused there a moment as an expectant hush fell, waiting until he had their full attention, then started with the song that was most often requested back home: "My Lady's Eyes". It wasn't, as love songs went, the best written or even the most clever, but the tune was catchy and it allowed him to show off his skills, as it required some intricate fingering. Fortunately the lyrics, which honestly were the weakest part of the song, were in Valdemaran and therefore unintelligible to this group. Nevertheless, the Tayledras seemed to enjoy it as much as most Valdemarans did; Kamren found them a wonderfully responsive audience.

As Kamren returned to his seat, Winddancer favored him with a dazzling smile of approval. After a few more performances, Winddancer rose to take a turn. He drew a small flute from somewhere beneath the fringe of his tunic, and began play. The sound was thin and haunting, like wind whistling through rocks and over empty plains. As he played, Winddancer swayed in time with the music, making the fringe on his garment move like…well, like what Kamren imagined the wind would look like if given shape. As with the first performance Kamren had witnessed, there were a few moments of silence before the applause, broken only by a soft breeze that rustled through the leaves in a ghostly echo of Winddancer's flute.

Kamren waited until Winddancer was seated, then rose and took center stage once again, as a few others had already done. "I first heard this song when I was quite young, almost before I knew I wanted to be a Bard," he began, choosing his words with care as he was not as fluent as he would have preferred in the tradetongue. "I was attending a festival in our capital city, and the most famous Bard of all time, Stefen, was performing. It was a rare opportunity for a youngling, and that performance is forever impressed in my memory. I remember how surprised I was to see such an old man; though I knew his adventures with the Herald Vanyel Ashkevron, his lifebonded, had taken place many years before, my child's mind expected still to see the young Bard of the tales. He wrote this song about his beloved, and of all that happened at that festival, this is the memory I most treasure." With that, Kamren started to play. The song was "Magic's Price", which told of Vanyel's final battle—romanticized and exaggerated, of course, but the song was all the better for that. Vanyel was, after all, a legend even by the time Stefen wrote the song. As he sang and played, Kamren used his Bardic Gift, evoking Stefen's fear, and grief at the loss of his lover, but also the glory of Vanyel and the heroism he had shown in his final battle to defend Valdemar. The words might be lost to the Hawkbrothers, but at least they could get a sense for the meaning behind the song.

Once again the audience sat spellbound before showing their appreciation. However, it was the rapt expression on Winddancer's face that warmed Kamren the most. Taking his seat beside him, Kamren watched as Winddancer visibly shook off the spell Kamren had woven with his words and his Gift, and joined the applause. Kamren's response was all out of proportion to Winddancer's appreciation.

During the rest of the concert, Kamren occasionally darted a sideways glance toward his seatmate, trying to sort out why, exactly, Winddancer's reaction had meant more than anyone else's. It was possibly that the reason was simply that Kamren knew him better than he did any other Hawkbrother. _Tayledras_, he corrected himself absently. Somehow, though, Kamren didn't think that was it. Though they were very quickly discovering many things in common in spite of their very different backgrounds, and were becoming fast friends, there was a suspicious tightening in his chest and flutter in his stomach that Kamren recognized all too well as having little to do with friendship. His breath caught as the idea took hold. _Stop it_, he chided himself sternly. _You have no idea of their customs here. If same-sex pairings are cause for embarrassment in Valdemar, they may be strictly prohibited or even offensive here. Any rumors I may have heard back home to the contrary could be just make-believe and wishful thinking. And you certainly don't want to offend these people who rescued you, so put it out of your mind!_ With those thoughts, Kamren firmly turned his attention back to the concert, and was soon lost in the strange, delightful music.

* * *

With an effort, Winddancer pulled himself out of the spell of the music, noticing that Kamren was making his way back to the seat he had vacated to perform, and looking quite pleased with himself. _And well he should_, Winddancer thought as he smiled at the Bard and added his applause. _That was music as I have never heard before. There must have been mind-magic behind it. Interesting._ Winddancer pretended to watch the rest of the concert, but he was preoccupied and kept finding himself sneaking glances at the man next to him. The Outlander, though quite different in appearance from the Tayledras, was quite attractive, his brown eyes shining with interest and his unruly curls bouncing slightly in time with the music. The outfit Winddancer had lent him brought out the color in his complexion, as well as flattering his slender, almost delicate, figure. Winddancer shook his head ever so slightly, making the blue and white fringe in his hair ripple. _Don't be a fool_, he thought as he realized where his thoughts were taking him. _He's an Outlander, however pretty he looks all dressed up like one of us. Besides_, he added to himself as the flutter in his stomach refused to listen to reason, _he's probably not _shay-a-chern_. For all I know, his people may regard it as a perversion. Many cultures do._ Though his body was not convinced by logic, Winddancer did his best to ignore it, but he still found it difficult to keep his attention on the concert. He tried a breathing exercise he often used before working magic to bring his body back under control. It helped, though he still felt somewhat unsettled sitting so close to Kamren. Belatedly, he wished he had chosen a seat that allowed for a little more distance between them. Winddancer tried to pretend he could not feel the heat of the Bard sitting beside him, refusing to allow Kamren's body heat to ignite an answering fire within himself.

After some time, Winddancer noticed Kamren's eyes glazing with fatigue, and he belatedly realized that Kamren had not been out of bed until recently, and had not yet been awake this far into the night since his injury. He gently took Kamren's elbow and maneuvered him quietly out of the clearing, the Bard clutching his lute possessively. _:I stay. Good company. Good music,:_ Hwaar Mindspoke him, Sending an image of the owl perched side by side with his mate. _:Good. You stay and enjoy yourself,:_ Winddancer answered. _:I'll put our friend to bed.:_ Hwaar Sent back wordless agreement, overlaid with the image of a pair of hawks spiraling upwards in a mating flight. _:No!:_ Winddancer protested, perhaps a bit too strongly. _:Nothing of the sort at all!:_ The owl Sent Winddancer the mental equivalent of a chuckle, and Winddancer realized that Hwaar was teasing him. _Being teased by a Bondbird_, he thought with disgust. _What's next? Still, if he's teasing me like this, he must have picked up on some of what I'm trying not to feel. I should be more careful._ Winddancer firmly shut the bird out of his mind, refusing to listen to any more sallies from that direction.

Unfortunately, Hwaar's teasing was fairly accurate to Winddancer's state of mind at the moment, and only served to make him more aware of that fact. _Maybe there's a chance…_ Winddancer mused, then dismissed the thought with some irritation. He concentrated on steering the exhausted Bard back to his _ekele,_ which he'd been sharing with Kamren. He followed Kamren up the wooden ladder, grateful for the Bard's sake that he had chosen an _ekele_ in the lower branches of the tree. _I don't think Kamren will be able to make the climb up to some of the higher dwellings for at least another few days._

Winddancer emerged through the floor to find that Kamren had already collapsed, winded from the climb, onto a pile of cushions Winddancer kept next to the "door". The Bard sprawled, unconsciously provocative, looking like a ruby dropped amid the amber silk. When Kamren opened his eyes and sat up, Winddancer could see that they were shining with excitement. "I am sorry I just do not have the energy tonight," the Outlander said as soon as Winddancer's head and shoulders appeared through the trapdoor, "but tomorrow I _have_ to learn more about your instruments. I have never seen anything like some of them before! And the singing! I wish I knew your language, but the music is so expressive I almost feel I don't need to. I would like to learn some of those songs. And, if I have time, I want to learn your language! It is beautiful."

Winddancer smiled at the Bard's enthusiasm. "Not many Outlanders have ever heard our music. Is there any song in particular that impressed you?" He settled himself on a cushion at the edge of Kamren's pile, carefully taking the lute from the tired Bard and buckling it into the padded traveling case. He couldn't help but notice the tiny stitches where the _hertasi_ had repaired a long gash in the leather cover. Kamren didn't need to know how close he had come to losing his precious instrument to the creatures that had also nearly taken his life. Idly, Winddancer wondered if the Vale's wood craftsman would be able to duplicate it.

"Hmm…" Kamren's eyes grew thoughtful. "There were several, not least of which was your performance on the flute. It was beautiful, like wind and sky and empty plains." Winddancer felt himself flush, and he bent over the lute as if checking to make sure the buckles were secure to hide his confusion. He had been hoping for that response, but his reaction to it was all out of proportion to the praise, and he reminded himself that the Bard was simply giving a professional opinion. "As for singing," Kamren continued, "I was most impressed by that woman we heard when we first arrived in the clearing. The one in dark blue."

Winddancer quickly suppressed a grimace. Rainsong _was_ quite a good musician, one of the best. She always handled her responsibilities as leader of the scouts with commendable diligence, but Winddancer had never been comfortable with her. It was no secret in the Vale that Rainsong was attracted to him. Once, long ago, she had courted him to no avail. Though he had rejected her advances as gently as he could, Rainsong had never quite given up on the possibility. _Perhaps_, Winddancer admitted to himself for what seemed the hundredth time, _it's more than simple attraction_. The fact that Rainsong knew he was _shay-a-chern_ made no difference to her, except to make her unhappy that she could never be with him. This led to some inevitable discomfort between the two of them, which was not made any better by the fact that she was the only scout who flew an owl as a bondbird. And not just any owl; Rainsong was bonded to the only other Eagle Owl in the Vale, the mate of Hwaar. This meant that when Winddancer took his turn at scout duty, as all the mages did, he was invariably paired with her. As leader of the scouts, Rainsong could have arranged things differently, but they were the most logical pair, and they both knew it. So they both suffered through the inevitable awkwardness with what grace they could manage, and avoided each other as much as possible when they were not scouting together. Usually that wasn't hard, since Rainsong was often out on scout duty, but as leader of the scouts, she also had a number of responsibilities within the Vale. They had both become adept at looking past each other if they chanced to meet.

"Many in the Clan are of the opinion that Rainsong is the best human singer in or near the Vale," Winddancer answered, keeping his tone light with an effort.

"The best human?" Kamren echoed, looking puzzled by Winddancer's phrasing, obviously uncertain that he had interpreted correctly.

Winddancer smiled. "If you like her singing, you should hear the _tervardi_ sometime." Seeing the blank look on Kamren's face, he added, "the Tayledras work with several non-human species as allies. Legend has it that they were created by the great mage that the Tayledras once served, back before the Mage Wars. There were few then who could create new creatures rather than warping existing ones, and none now possess the art. The _tervardi_ are somewhere between human and bird. Some of them are extraordinary singers. There wasn't time on such short notice, but if we have another concert or celebration while you are here, we will certainly have to include the non-human musicians from among our allies outside the Vale. Though," he added, with a sidelong glance at the Bard, "I doubt that any of the Clan or our allies could match your performance tonight. Were you using a form of mindmagic?" He tried to ask the question innocently, but he was half afraid that the answer was a closely guarded secret.

Kamren looked surprised. "I have been told by my teachers that the Bardic Gift is similar to Empathy, so yes, I suppose it is. Have you not encountered it before?"

Winddancer shook his head and set aside the lute case he was still holding, using the motion to slide a little closer to Kamren in the nest of pillows. He was fascinated by the conversation, but more so by the nearness of the slight young man next to him. He attempted to focus solely on the words, but that led him into an unsettling fascination with the Bard's lips. They looked soft, and curved slightly upwards at the corners. Winddancer dragged his attention back to the conversation. "To my knowledge, no Tayledras possess this particular form of mindmagic, though Empathy and Mindspeech, as well as a few others, are well known among us." In spite of his earlier resolutions to ignore his body's promptings with regard to this unfairly handsome Outlander, Winddancer inched slightly closer, watching carefully for any sign of fear, rejection, or disgust. The reaction he got was entirely different. He stifled a sigh of disappointment as Kamren yawned hugely.

"Much as I would like to stay up and talk about music and the Bardic Gift, I fear I will fall asleep if I try," Kamren apologized, extricating himself from the pillows. "We will have to continue this conversation at a different time. Goodnight." Winddancer watched regretfully, but with a certain amount of appreciation for the bard's figure, as Kamren made his way into the bedroom. _Tayledras-style clothing really does suit him very well_, Winddancer thought as he allowed himself to sink back into the pillows. _And even exhausted, he is graceful._ At last, fearing for his sanity and his resolutions should he stay any longer in such close proximity to the tempting young man on the other side of the curtain, and _certainly_ not ready for bed, he settled for a long soak in the pool at the foot of the tree.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Kamren familiarized himself with the Vale, exploring it with Winddancer as a guide, or by himself when the Hawkbrother was busy. He started learning Tayledras, as not all Hawkbrothers spoke the tradetongue, and Kamren felt awkward not being able to communicate with them. Besides, he wanted to be able to understand the songs he had heard. He did, at one point, seek out some of the musicians he had seen playing instruments that were strange to him. And he learned, entirely by accident, that the feelings he'd been discovering toward Winddancer were more acceptable in k'Vala Vale than in Valdemar. Once he recovered from his embarrassment, and finished thanking whatever luck or deity had ensured that the participants had not been aware of his inadvertent intrusion, he found himself a quiet (unoccupied) corner of the Vale in which to sit and think.

Knowing that such relationships were not completely forbidden, Kamren finally admitted to himself that he was attracted to Winddancer and started thinking seriously about the possibility of acting on those feelings. There were three possible obstacles Kamren could see to such a relationship. The first one, of course, was whether Winddancer himself would be interested in that sort of pairing at all. Kamren tried to think back on all the interactions he could remember witnessing between Winddancer and any women they had encountered. None of them stood out in his memory, but then, neither did any men. It was possible (and here Kamren's breath caught in his throat) that Winddancer didn't currently have any lover.

Which led directly to the next question. Assuming Winddancer was amenable to that sort of relationship with a man, what would he think of pairing with an Outlander? Kamren had no idea (and no way of finding out short of asking someone, which he was certainly not going to do) if that was even permitted. And then, assuming that it wasn't forbidden, would Winddancer be interested or attracted to Kamren personally (again assuming he didn't have a lover)? Kamren was suddenly painfully aware of his pale skin, curly brown hair, and scrawny figure, so unlike Tayledras features. Unlike enough to be unattractive? Winddancer had certainly been kind and attentive, but that could be attributed to his current situation of being both Kamren's Healer and his host.

With a sigh, Kamren realized that the only things that could provide answers to his questions were time and patience. In Haven, he knew the moves of this intricate dance, and knew the sort of hints and questions that would get him the answers he sought; here, he was far out of his depth.

* * *

After a few weeks, once Kamren felt that he was conversant enough in the Tayledras language, he sought out Rainsong, intending to ask her about her music the night of the concert. He found her in a small clearing beside a waterfall near the head of the Vale, surrounded by several baskets of differently colored silk ribbons. She was weaving them into an intricately patterned strip about a thumb-length wide. Kamren guessed it to be a belt or a strap for an instrument.

The Hawkbrother seemed not to have noticed Kamren's approach; she was wholly absorbed in her work. The little waterfall tinkled merrily into a small pool, and the sun glittered on the water. The sweet scent of unfamiliar flowers was heavy in the afternoon air, and hummingbirds darted in and out of the shadows like tiny sparkling jewels. Kamren cleared his throat, and Rainsong looked up quickly, her short hair swinging across her face with the sudden movement. For a fleeting moment, Kamren thought he saw her unguarded, but her eyes quickly hardened as she recognized him. Flustered, Kamren forgot the words he had planned to say, and stammered out an apology in the best Tayledras he could muster.

"Pardon," he said. "I did not wish to…intrude. I merely wanted…er…I mean…I wondered if I might ask…if you would…tell me about…you sing beautifully," he finally blurted out. Rainsong stared at him, waiting. Kamren continued awkwardly. "I wondered if you would tell me about your song. The one you sang the night of the concert. I did not know your language at all when I heard you sing, so I did not understand the words. But it moved me, and I want to learn what it is about, if you would be willing to speak with me."

A hint of a smile touched Rainsong's lips; a sad one, Kamren thought. "It is a very old song," she said, "from just after the Sundering." Kamren settled himself in an attentive attitude on a handy rock near the edge of the pool. The sunlight was warm on his back, and the mist from the waterfall felt refreshing on his neck. Rainsong paused, as if considering what to tell him, then launched into an explanation of the song.

"Long ago," she began, "the Clans of the Tayledras and the Shin'a'in were one people, serving the Mage of Silence. After he died, a rift formed among the Clans, causing them to split into two factions and go their separate ways, each with the blessing of the Goddess, as we are today. The reason for the separation is not important to the song; it is sufficient to know that the Shin'a'in remained in the Plains, while the Tayledras took to the hills and forests of the Pelagirs. The song tells the story of a girl from one of the Clans that became Tayledras, Brightsparrow, lamenting because her lover Taral belonged to the Shin'a'in. She swears an oath to the Goddess that she will never love another, as her lover rides out of sight across the plains, and she changes her use-name toe Lonesparrow. Their paths never cross again, but she keeps her vow. A few years after the Sundering, the Goddess takes pity on the two lovers, and their spirits are reunited beyond this world. Some say this song is symbolic of the Tayledras and Shin'a'in peoples and that some day the Clans will reunite. I think it is simply a song of love that cannot be in this world."

Rainsong fell silent, the only sounds the musical cascade of the waterfall and the buzz of hummingbirds. At some point during the story, her hands had stopped their work. Now she picked up the strands of silk again.

Kamren thought for a minute, wondering how to ask his next question. "It is a sad story and a beautiful song," he said quietly. "You sang it very feelingly. I hardly felt I needed to understand the words." He hesitated, then plunged ahead, determined to find out for sure if she had the Bardic Gift. "You seemed to really understand the emotion of the song, and make the audience feel it with you."

Rainsong looked at Kamren with an unreadable expression, and he hoped he hadn't been too blunt. Finally, she spoke. "You are observant, Outlander. Everyone else in the Vale knows my sorrow; you may as well also know the tale. Better, perhaps, that you hear it from me than from another." There was bitterness in her voice, though her face remained stony, expressionless. Rainsong paused to gather her thoughts, and Kamren waited patiently. As a Bard, story gathering was something he had been trained in, and patience was a big part of it.

"Long ago," she finally began, "before I had chosen my use-name, I was much sought after. Many young men paid court to me, but I would have none of them. I only had eyes for one, and he never offered me any of the attentions the others showered me with. For a long time I waited, creating chance encounters and dreaming up any excuse to be in his company. I fear I made something of a fool of myself, but I didn't care so long as he noticed me. He would have to have been blind not to see what I was doing, how I felt. But he never treated me with anything more than courtesy.

"Finally, I could play the game no longer. I caught him alone in one of the small clearings dotting the Vale and laid my heart bare. I shall never forget the look on his face as he politely tore my heart apart and made his escape.

"After that, I redoubled my efforts. I had resolved to win him over, and I did my best. I brought him gifts and did favors for him. Three times I offered him my feather, and three times he rejected me, each time more polite than the last. I couldn't understand how I could love him so much and he could have such utter disregard for me. I was so blinded by my own hurt and determination that I could not see what everyone else already knew.

"One day I followed him into a clearing much like the one in which I had first declared my passion, intending to offer my feather again, when I was pulled up short by what I saw. I had thought to find him alone, but I saw him locked in the arms of another man, and the truth suddenly became clear to me. He would never love me, because I was female. I must have made some sound, for they both looked up.

"All I could do was stare. 'I tried to tell you,' he said softly, pityingly. 'You refused to understand'. Still polite, but at the same time he now begged for my forgiveness. He never meant to hurt me, but I am doomed to love him without any hope of return. So you see, I understand the song quite well. I am Brightsparrow, and Winddancer is unwillingly my Taral."

Kamren was struck speechless by her last statement. His surprise must have shown on his face, for Rainsong laughed mirthlessly.

"Yes, Outlander. It is Winddancer I love, and Winddancer who will never love me. And just to rub salt in the wound, my bondbird has succeeded where I have failed. Kytha is mated to his Hwaar, so I cannot simply go to a different Clan, or live forever outside the Vale."

Kamren finally found his tongue. He almost couldn't believe his good fortune. "Then Winddancer is…" He stopped, realizing that, while this information was certainly in his favor, it would not be kind to continue his question. He cast about for another, safer subject, but Rainsong was quicker.

"He is _shay-a-chern_, yes," she finished for him. "You have a better chance of winning him, Outlander, than I ever did." Kamren blushed, wondering if the entire Vale knew how he felt.

"How do you…I mean…what makes you think I'm even interested in him?"

Rainsong once again picked up the forgotten strands of her weaving. "Your reaction when you learned that Winddancer is _shay-a-chern_ gave you away, as did your blush when you feebly attempted to deny it." She looked directly into Kamren's face, and her icy eyes pinned him. "I bear you no ill will, Outlander," she said. "But you will forgive me if I do not desire to be your friend." She dropped her gaze to her weaving, carefully pulling another strand of silk from one of the baskets and deftly adding it into her pattern. She paid no further attention to the Bard, and Kamren left the clearing in confusion, hurrying down the path until he could no longer hear the waterfall behind him. He had a lot to think about.

* * *

"Well, the scouts have returned," Winddancer reported. He had just returned from another Council meeting, and he and Kamren were sitting on a pile of cushions in one corner of the living room in the Hawkbrother's _ekele_. Hwaar napped on his perch in another corner by the window. Occasionally, a stray breeze would stir in their hair as the two men sat discussing the new developments.

"Were they able to find the Blood-mage responsible for creating those awful 'Beasts?" Kamren asked with a shudder of revulsion. Even after living in the Vale for the past few weeks, Kamren still had nightmares involving long sharp teeth, serpentine tails, and the rotten, breath of carrion-eaters.

"Well, no one went inside to check, if that's what you're asking," Winddancer admitted with a wry smile. "But they're pretty sure it's the place. It's about a day's journey outside of our normal territory, where we have not cleansed the lands and tamed the magic, which is why we never found it before. The mage's dwelling itself is cleverly hidden and difficult to reach, because of both natural rock formations and illusions, but our mages who went with the scouts report that the taint of blood magic is unmistakable if you look for it."

"So you're pretty sure you found the place. Now what? It sounds pretty unpenetratable. Is that the right word?" It didn't sound quite right, and Kamren's brow furrowed for a moment, then he dismissed the issue and returned to the discussion at hand. "What are you going to do about this mage? Is there any way you can use magic to destroy his fortress?"

Winddancer smiled gently. "I wish it were that easy," he answered. "But there are several reasons why that won't work. First, he certainly has magical defenses in place, beyond the illusions that keep it hidden. Second, even if he didn't, it would take an enormous amount of magical energy to cause a stone fortress to be ripped apart. And third, the sudden release of whatever magic he has stored or that is being used to maintain his defenses and illusions would cause a magical backlash that would create yet more distortions to this area than have already been created. This would not only create more disruptions and harm to the area, but it would also make more work for us. That is exactly the type of thing we are supposed to _fix._ It would be better if we could find a way to catch these magical forces and then slowly release them back into their normal flow paths."

Correctly interpreting Kamren's blank look, Winddancer explained, "Magic occurs naturally, and follows natural laws just as anything else does. All living things, from the smallest blade of grass up through humans and other intelligent beings, create magical energy, which flows over the land. These trickles run together to form 'streams' of magic, which we call _ley_-lines. The _ley_-lines come together to form nodes. The more lines flowing into it, the stronger and more powerful the node. Only a very powerful mage, an Adept, can use the energy in a node, and it takes a very powerful Adept to use a node that has many _ley_-lines feeding it. Does that make sense so far?" Kamren nodded, and Winddancer continued. "Now, imagine what would happen if you were to set up a system of pipes to draw water out of a lake, and put up mills and dams on many of the rivers feeding the lake. The amount of water in the lake would go down, and the strength of the rivers feeding it would decrease. If you suddenly remove all these pipes and dams at once, the lake would flood and cause some destruction on its shores. The more devices you had drawing on the lake in the first place, the greater would be the destruction when you remove them. Imagine the lake as a node, and the rivers feeding it are the _ley-_lines. We know already that this mage is an Adept, and that he is maintaining magical defenses, almost certainly using magic for other things as well. So if he dies…"

"…the magic will be released all at once, causing a sort of magical flood." Kamren finished, comprehension of the problem suddenly dawning.

"Exactly," Winddancer answered, obviously pleased with Kamren's quick understanding. "The magical backlash could be contained and allowed to drain slowly back into the land without causing physical overflow, but only if there are enough Adepts available and they have a chance to prepare. Now, this is a simplified situation; in addition to 'putting back' all the power he is drawing from local sources, his death would also add all of his own personal and stolen power to the mix, increasing the size of the flood."

Kamren pondered what he had just learned about magic. He was still astounded by the magic he saw everywhere in the Vale, but he could no longer doubt its existence. Perhaps Stefen hadn't really exaggerated Vanyel's power, and that was an exciting thought. Finally, pulling himself back to the current problem, he spoke up hesitantly. "Is there another way to negate him? Some way to strip him of his powers? I mean, do we really have to kill him, if it will cause so many problems?"

Winddancer's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. "After all you've been through, I would have expected you to be leading the charge. Kamren, he is evil. Once a mage turns to the Blood path, I have never heard of one turning away from it. He is tainted forever. I explained how the magic released by all life trickles into streams and pools that can be tapped by most mages. There is a faster, easier way to get that energy, and that is to take it by force from a living being, bypassing the natural cycle entirely. Pain, fear, and violent death release the energy quickly, allowing the mage to become very powerful if he has a steady supply of victims. This energy is much easier to use than node energy, or even the energy from _ley_-lines if the mage knows what he is doing. But it leaves the user irreparably tainted. So, to answer your question, even if we were to somehow strip him of his power without killing him, this Blood-path Adept would forever retain the taint. If he could, he would find a way to regain his powers, and I promise you, he won't be scrupulous. He gains power by torturing and killing intelligent beings; no one in this area is safe from him until he is dead. If we exile him, he will simply prey on whoever or whatever lives near him, until he has regained his power and influence. Making him someone else's problem is not a solution that would sit well with any Tayledras. We fix problems, we don't divert them elsewhere."

Kamren sat silent for a few minutes, chastened. "You mentioned that catching and safely releasing the magical backlash takes preparation," he said at last, convinced by Winddancer's vehemence and greater experience in such matters. Obviously, the Mage would know more about this than a Bard from Valdemar would. "So if you can't just wander up to his lair and destroy it, and you can't strip his power and send him into some lonely region far away, what are you going to do? I imagine that the preparation will take some time and possibly nearness to his fortress, and I guess he would have some way of knowing if you got close."

Winddancer sighed and looked down at a stray feather, carried to this end of the room by the breeze through the window, that he had been toying with. "We don't know yet," he admitted reluctantly. "We thought of a few ideas at the meeting today, but none of them are good. We will be meeting again tomorrow and," he suddenly looked up and met Kamren's eyes, "the Council requested that you attend this meeting."

Kamren was surprised. "Me? What could I possibly add? I know nothing about magic, except what you just told me. I barely even speak your language!"

"Don't worry about that. I'll translate anything you don't understand, if the Council members themselves cannot," Winddancer assured him. "But I do not think that will be necessary; you are a quick learner. You have picked up much of our language in only a few weeks. As for why your presence is requested tomorrow, well, the Changebeasts _did_ chase you into the Pelagirs. There must be something about you that attracted his attention. It may be that we can discover what that is and use it to our advantage. Since we found you, scouts have been on the lookout for signs of other attacks. As far as we can tell, no other traveler has been molested."

Kamren glanced down, watching as Winddancer alternately ruffled and smoothed the feather. "I suppose you're right. Any idea at all why I was chosen?" Kamren looked up again and met Winddancer's incredibly blue eyes. He discovered that he didn't want to look away.

"I don't know," Winddancer's voice was grave. After a moment during which he, too, seemed reluctant to break eye contact, he teased, "Maybe it was your vibrant personality that he sensed across the miles. Or," he added breaking into a sudden grin, "maybe it was your bright red cloak."

Kamren's heart lurched. Could Winddancer be flirting with him? He grinned back. "Scarlet is what marks me as a Bard. It is supposed to protect me, and I can't very well do away with my uniform, especially while traveling and doing my job. Anyway, it's hardly more noticeable than your wildly colored outfits and magic-bleached hair," Kamren retorted, reaching out to touch the silvery-white strands spilling onto the cushion Winddancer was reclining against. He felt his face growing warm, and his heart hammered in his chest. Kamren looked up to find those silver-blue eyes fixed on his face, and met them. Again, neither one of them seemed to want to look away, and they remained motionless for seconds that seemed like ages. Hoping he was reading the signals right, Kamren carefully moved his hand up to gently caress Winddancer's cheek without breaking eye contact. He lost himself in Winddancer's eyes, and wished he could remain like this forever. Slowly, Winddancer moved toward Kamren, his own hand traveling toward Kamren's face as he did. As their lips touched, Kamren felt an arm slide around his waist, and he melted into the embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note

This story is set in the Pelagir hills about a generation after Vanyel's adventures in the _Last Herald-Mage_ trilogy. I chose the Tayledras very deliberately to reflect the characters I was writing. After finishing the story, I discovered other characters in other stories who share names with some of my characters. This is pure coincidence, and is not intended to infringe upon any other stories. I simply invented names that suit my characters. I would also like to thank Mendeia for agreeing to be my beta.

Warning: contains some male/male romance (nothing beyond what you might see in a PG-13 movie) as well as suggestions of torture and non-consensual seduction.

Disclaimer: Although the characters are my own, the world belongs exclusively to Mercedes Lackey, and I do not make a profit from this story. I am just borrowing her world and a few phrases from her writings for my own purposes.

Chapter 2

_A plan they formed this blood-mage to defeat:_

_They set a trap to get in his retreat._

_As bait the Bard would travel on alone_

_With magic so his journey could be known._

Mages would also set magical traps

_In blood-mage's defenses to make gaps._

_Then Tayledras would enter castle drear_

_And wicked mage would leave upon a bier._

—From "The Defeat of Sasseth" by Summersong k'Vala

Kamren shifted restlessly in his seat. The Council had been discussing what to do about the enemy Adept for several hours, and his stomach was telling him in no uncertain terms that it was high time for lunch. As if summoned by his thought, a light meal arrived, carried by a pair of what could only be _hertasi_. Winddancer had described the intelligent, lizard-like creatures who, by their own choice, served the Hawkbrothers, but Kamren had not actually seen more than a few fleeting glimpses of the shy beings yet. Like the _tervardi,_ they were supposedly created by an ancient Mage, and Kamren was fascinated by them. He did not get a chance to stare, however, for the Tayledras did not pause in their debate, and the _hertasi_ disappeared as quickly and as quietly as they had come, leaving two large trays on the ground in the center of the circle. The trays held small sandwiches, easy to eat with little mess. Several Council members reached for the food, and Kamren tried a careful bite. It tasted strange, somewhat minty and with an unfamiliar meat, but not at all unpleasant.

Autumnleaf picked up a sandwich, but didn't pause in his speaking long enough to take a bite. "It is clear to me that we need to have someone inside the fortress, someone who can open up this creature's magical defenses." He looked around and, seeing reluctant agreement on the other five faces, continued. "Who that person is to be, and how we get that person inside is what we have to decide." He took a neat bite of his meal as he looked around the corner of the clearing occupied by the Council once again.

Starfire nodded, but it was plain that he did not relish the idea. "In that case, I think we must first find a way in. Then we can decide who can best perform the required action, as well as opening up the fortress."

"As for the latter," Winddancer spoke up suddenly, "anyone can. I can devise a spell to neutralize the defenses that could be triggered automatically once it got inside the fortress. Even a non-Mage could be the carrier."

Ravenflight grew thoughtful. "Is the fortress defended from above?" she asked slowly.

Rainsong, as leader of the scouts and their representative on the Council, answered. "Well, no, not that I saw," the puzzlement in her voice was mirrored on her face. "But it doesn't matter. There is no way for us to get up there. The keep is situated on top of a rocky hill. As far as we can tell, it is simply a tall tower surrounded by a wall. A single narrow path leads up to the main door, and there is a side door off of that same path as it winds around the fortress. The fortress itself resembles a natural spire of rock sticking up from the hill. In fact, that is what we took it for at first, until we had mages with us who could see through the illusions. The mages also warn that there are traps set up all around to warn the master of the castle if anyone comes near."

Ravenflight's face took on a crafty expression. "My thought was to have Winddancer cast his spell on a bondbird, then have the bird enter the keep from the air." She turned to Winddancer. "Could you devise a spell that could be carried by a bondbird, one that would serve our purposes?"

It was Winddancer's turn to look thoughtful. "I could," he said at last. "It would be risky. The bondbirds are barely intelligent enough to carry such a spell. We would have to use either an owl or one of the corbies. Most hawks and falcons are simply not smart enough. And, if I were a blood-mage living no more than a day or two outside Tayledras territory, I would certainly have bowmen on the walls with orders to shoot any bondbird they see. Probably, they would have orders to shoot any bird that appeared to be too large. We have to assume that he has figured out both that we can see through our birds' eyes, and that he can cripple us, at least temporarily, by killing them. I would not risk my bird on such a venture, unless there was no other option. Would you?"

Ravenflight paused. "Well, I think it would at least have to be approved by the bird going in, but his bondmate would also have to accept the risk of losing him. I would not want to take that risk." Above her in the branches, a huge raven shifted its weight, and Ravenflight, after a pause in which she appeared to be listening to something Kamren couldn't hear, added, "Korith says he does not want to do it because he does not wish to die. And he is one of the more adventurous birds in the Vale. So I guess it will not work, then. It is too bad the spell cannot be cast on one of the less intelligent and smaller birds, so we wouldn't have to risk a Bondbird."

No one seemed willing to break the silence. Finally, Starfire spoke. "It seems, then, that we must send a human to infiltrate our enemy's lair. I would not send one of our non-human allies; none of them is suited to this kind of task. Yet the human we send need not be a mage; we will need most of those outside in any case, to catch the energy released if we succeed. Anyone, even an artist or builder, could carry the spell inside."

Ravenflight immediately broke in. "Just because we do not perform magic or maintain and protect the Vale, nor put ourselves at risk patrolling the borders, does NOT make us expendable!" she exclaimed heatedly, glancing at Autumnleaf for support. He remained impassive.

"I did not say you were," Starfire's voice was gentle. "But we must choose the best person for the job, and if that person happens to be an artist…" he spread his hands.

"More likely," Rainsong said quietly, "it will have to be a scout. We are the best at not being seen, and would be the ones who could get closest to his gates, if we had a mage to protect us from the magical spies. But once we get there, I do not think anyone could get in without knowledge and permission from the one inside. It is too well defended. I think the person entering will have to offer something the enemy wants, something irresistible, so that the mage will let him or her in, or bring the bait in himself."

Autumnleaf shook his head. "But what does this mage want? How can we be sure that, whatever bait we offer, he will take it?"

Rainsong looked down at her hands and didn't answer for a long moment. "I know what he wants," she all but whispered. When she didn't elaborate, Autumnleaf leaned forward and tried to catch her eyes.

"What is it that we have that he wants?" he pressed.

When she finally spoke, Rainsong looked directly into Winddancer's eyes for the first time that morning. "I do not know why, but he wants the Outlander." Kamren sat back in shock, then wondered why he was surprised. The creatures had attacked him, after all. Winddancer opened his mouth to voice a protest, but the scout leader held up her hand. "Hear me out. You yourself commented on how 'lucky' he was that none of the wounds were fatal, so long as he received treatment within a few hours. Crippling, perhaps, but for your expertise, but not fatal unless he were left alone. But there were other things you missed that I have spoken of to no one until now. I had hoped it would not prove important. When we found him, you were busy tending to his wounds. I examined the Changebeasts. They were built to fight, yes. I was surprised that they had not killed him outright with one blow. They could have. Also, from Kamren's tale, we learn that he was chased for several days, and that he was allowed to rest by night. Why did they not kill him sooner? I am sure they could have split up and surrounded him. And their eyes were like cats' eyes; I am certain they could have continued the chase by night. I think they were herding him somewhere. It was only when he turned to fight that they attacked, and not to kill. There is one more thing I noticed," she continued relentlessly. "Although they are carnivores, the 'Beasts each had a broad, flat place on its back, just behind the shoulders. For a short space, their backs resembled those of horses or _dyheli_. They were built to carry a burden at great speed. Perhaps even a human, slung across on his belly." This last was said so quietly Kamren could barely hear it, and when she had finished, Rainsong looked down at her hands where they compulsively braided and unbraided a section of fringe on her tunic and fell silent once more.

Winddancer reacted before Kamren had a chance to get his thoughts in order. "No!" he exclaimed with startling force. "We cannot send an Outlander to do our work. We are sworn to protect such as him. We are the ones whose duty it is to protect the land, eliminate evil, and cleanse corrupt and wild magics. Kamren was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it is our duty to keep him from further harm. We cannot send him into greater danger! He is not part of the Clan, and no oath or binding is laid on him to do our work for us."

"That is true," Starfire said gravely, "but the same could be said of our _dyheli_ or _tervardi_ allies. He has no need to help us. If he wishes to help us, I believe Rainsong is correct. For whatever reason, this mage wants to capture our guest. If he chooses to help us, it will make our job easier, though by no means would he be doing it for us," this with a glance at Winddancer, "and he would earn our gratitude. If he believes the risk too great and does not volunteer, we will certainly hold him blameless. As Winddancer so passionately reminded us, Kamren is under no obligation to risk his life for us; quite the contrary, as our guest he is entitled to our protection, and should he choose to accept it, we will provide him all the comforts and defenses of the Vale, until such tame as he chooses to resume his journey."

All eyes turned to Kamren. Starfire, Autumnleaf, and Ravenflight kept their faces impassive, completely unreadable. Rainsong looked at him with pity in her eyes before returning her gaze to her lap. Winddancer's blue eyes pleaded with Kamren not to accept the mission. Kamren writhed in an agony of indecision. He didn't know why this enemy of the Hawkbrothers would want a Bard from Valdemar. But everyone else seemed to trust Rainsong's assessment, and he had to admit that her evidence was compelling. He had something that this mage wanted, and could save the people who had rescued him a lot of trouble. Surely he owed them that. But at the risk of his life? Rainsong had said that the mage had tried to capture Kamren alive, so she and Winddancer hadn't really saved his life. He wouldn't have died, though she had implied that he would be crippled and a prisoner of the evil sorcerer. He flexed his chording hand, memory of the injury reminding him that he would never have played any instrument again had Winddancer and Rainsong not come along when they did. He also remembered what Winddancer had told him about Blood-path mages. Maybe this Adept wanted to kill him personally, slowly, and steal his life energy. Yet another reason to accept Hawkbrother help to travel as far from here as quickly as he could. And Winddancer was against his going. Maybe he could stay here in the safety of the Vale until it was over, and someone else more suited to this mission could go. But Kamren was an Outlander. The Hawkbrothers had no reason to let him stay now that he was fully healed, certainly not once the danger was removed. Maybe, if he did this for them, he would be welcome to stay longer with Winddancer. If he could prove that he could hold his own and was no child in need of protection, Winddancer might even want him to stay for a while. That Winddancer plainly thought he wasn't up to the task stung. Pride surged up in him and he broke the heavy silence.

"It seems that I am the best person for the job." He looked deep into Winddancer's anguished eyes, hoping to see understanding and forgiveness but seeing only cold shock. He turned to look steadily at Starfire. "I'll be the bait in your trap. Just make sure it's a good one. I don't want to die anymore than Ravenflight's bird does." He spoke lightly, but inside he was trembling.

Starfire nodded. "We will do everything we can to keep you as safe as possible," he pledged "though there is no denying it is a dangerous task. The mages will need time to prepare. Winddancer, as the most powerful Adept in the Vale, will follow you in with a party of scouts once the protections fail, if he is willing. This group will actually dispose of the enemy. The rest of the mages will already be in place at strategic points around the fortress, ready to channel the energy released by the monster's death. We will leave scouts and a few of the less powerful mages to guard the Vale. The mages doing the channeling will need the most preparation, so they should depart soon, guided by the scouts who found the fortress. They will set up just outside the mage's alerts, and will be ready by the time you get there." He looked around the circle, receiving a nod of affirmation from each Council member, before rising and striding out of the clearing. The rest sat in silence for a moment.

Rainsong was the first to break that silence. She rose abruptly and turned to go, saying, "I need to find volunteers to accompany us into the fortress." An owl, slightly larger than Hwaar but not as ghostly white, glided silently out in her wake. The others took this as the signal to depart, and soon Kamren was alone with Winddancer in the clearing.

For long moments Winddancer sat silent, looking at the soft green grass at his feet and running a feather from his tunic through his fingers. Kamren wondered if he was angry. A gentle breeze rippled through the leaves over their heads, bringing the sweet scent of flowers, and Kamren could feel the sun warm on his head. He waited for Winddancer to come out of his reverie, bracing himself for an argument.

No argument came. Just as the silence reached the point where Kamren could bear it no longer, and was about to beg Winddancer to understand and forgive, the Hawkbrother stirred and looked up. "Well," he sighed, "I suppose you and Starfire are probably right. It isn't your responsibility to deal with this threat, as you are not a member of the Clan, but your help does make things easier for us. I just wish it wasn't so dangerous." Winddancer's voice was thick with fear, and Kamren wondered how he could ever have thought the Hawkbrother was angry with him.

In a rush of confusion, he stammered, "Then you…I…you care that much? I mean…I thought…I wasn't sure how much last night meant to you. It was wonderful, of course, and I was hoping you'd be willing to do it again sometime, but to me it was…well…I wanted it to be more than just…a…physical encounter. I wanted...more. I was hoping…you…" He could feel himself blushing. "I'm a Bard, I should be more articulate than that, but, well…I'm just not," he finished lamely. He squirmed a little, embarrassed and frustrated with his inability to put his feelings into words.

"Oh, _ashke_," Winddancer moved closer and slid his arms around Kamren, cradling the Bard's head against his shoulder. Kamren breathed the scent of him, allowing the warmth and comfort of the embrace to wash over him. "Yes, I care. Last night was special, and I hope we have more such opportunities to be close. I fear for your safety on this mission. I realize that you have your own country and an important position to return to, but I do not want to lose you sooner than I must."

Kamren's heart leapt. Winddancer actually wanted him to stay! Maybe, if everything went according to plan, and the Bardic Circle agreed, the Hawkbrothers might allow him to come for extended visits. At least then he'd get to see Winddancer sometimes. He smiled up at Winddancer as his body finally relaxed enough to respond to the nearness of the other man. He tilted his head up so that their eyes met, his lips dangerously near Winddancer's. "In that case," he breathed, "we should make the most of the time we have." He lifted his head slightly off Winddancer's shoulder to kiss him lightly.

Winddancer laughed. "All right, but not here. Too many people could wander through. Why don't we try a bed this time?" The two of them left the clearing hand in hand, making their way back to Winddancer's _ekele_ and doing their best not to think about the mission that would, all too soon, demand their undivided attention, if not their lives.

* * *

The next week passed far too quickly for Kamren's liking. All of the Adepts except Winddancer and many of the Masters departed immediately to start their preparations, leaving only Winddancer the Journeymen and low-level Master mages behind to defend the Vale, along with those who were not yet fully trained. Though Kamren and Winddancer spent as much time as possible together, talking about anything except the mission, both of them were preoccupied with their upcoming tasks. Winddancer was often busy experimenting with the best way to set the magical "trap" on Kamren and disguise it from prying magical eyes. Though he never spoke of it, Kamren was extremely nervous about this last. He was getting used to the Tayledras use of magic for everyday tasks such as lighting, but the thought of a magical spell set on _him_ frightened him even more than the plan to get himself captured did. If he really thought about it, Kamren realized that the legendary Herald Vanyel Demonsbane had been a mage, or so the songs said. He had always doubted it before, thinking it was merely the exaggerations of a Master Bard set on telling a good tale, but recent events had caused him to reevaluate those ideas. And, though Vanyel had been a mage, Bard Stefen had come to no harm through it. Fear, however, responded to no such logical arguments. Mostly, Kamren avoided thinking about it. He spent his days learning more about Tayledras music and his nights locked in Winddancer's embrace.

The day of their departure arrived far too soon. Today was the day Winddancer would cast his spell and they would start their journey. It would take them a few days to get outside the area protected by the Clan, so Kamren would journey with Winddancer and the group of scouts at first. Only when they neared the border, still a day's journey from their target, would Kamren pretend to be continuing his interrupted journey alone. If the enemy mage did spy on them, he might assume that the Tayledras who had rescued him were accompanying him to the edge of their territory and sending him on his way. As Kamren had been travelling south before the attack, and k'Vala Vale was north of the stronghold, it seemed a plausible cover.

"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Winddancer asked, and Kamren pulled himself back to the present. Kamren nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak, and offered him the ghost of a smile. Winddancer went very still, and his face took on a remote expression. He stood, still as a statue, for far longer than Kamren thought he could. Kamren watched the flowing hair, now dyed mottled brown like a scout's, lift slightly in a wandering breeze, the only clue that Winddancer was not carved of stone. Birds chirped all around, and somewhere in the Vale a hawk screeched. Nothing happened. Finally Winddancer stirred and opened his eyes. "Well," he said, "unless he is looking very carefully for just the sort of spell I set, our enemy will not even notice that you have any magic about you. I shielded my work very heavily; even I can barely see anything different."

Kamren was surprised. "You…you already cast the spell? I don't feel any different!"

"No reason you should," Winddancer shrugged. "You're not sensitive to magical energies." He looked soberly at Kamren. "I've made a slight improvement over the original idea of the spell," he said. "You do not have to do anything to trigger it, so it will work even if you are unconscious. I hope it doesn't come to that, but as long as you are alive when you pass through his defenses, the spell will trigger. Are you ready?" With an effort, Kamren suppressed a sudden chill. Only now did it really sink in that he might actually die on this mission. He nodded numbly. Kamren followed Winddancer to where the others were waiting, and out to the edge of the Vale and beyond. For a long while, neither of them spoke.

* * *

They had been travelling for two days through the forest when they reached the edge of the territory patrolled by the Tayledras. The forest was quiet and peaceful, though Kamren found the very uneventfulness of the journey so far unsettling, knowing as he did what awaited them at the end of it. For most of the journey, Kamren had felt very conspicuous with his Scarlets and bright chestnut hair. Around him the Hawkbrother scouts were nearly invisible. Even when they were moving it was difficult to distinguish them from the surrounding forest.

Winddancer, dressed as a scout and with his long hair dyed and bound up out of his way, touched Kamren's shoulder. "This is where we part," he said quietly. "His stronghold is about a day and a half journey south of here. You should be able to get near enough to attract his attention; simply make for the hills."

Kamren had a sudden thought. "What if he doesn't capture me? What if he doesn't take the bait?" He shifted his lute into a more comfortable position, fidgeting with the straps of his pack in his anxiety. Now that it was time for him to do his part, Kamren was reluctant to leave. He wished he had never volunteered for this task, but it was far too late to back out now.

"Just keep going south. We'll meet up with you and figure out a new plan. You probably won't know exactly where his fortress is, in any case; it is well hidden."

Kamren nodded. "Well, then," he said reluctantly, "I suppose I should get moving."

At the edge of the small clearing, a patch of forest stepped forward, distinguishable as Rainsong only when she was within a few paces. She put out a hand to stop him. "The feather," she reminded Kamren, her ice-chip eyes lifting to look at his hair. "You should look exactly as you did before you met us."

Kamren blushed a little as he reached up and unpinned the small white feather, stowing it carefully in his pack. He had forgotten about it. The feather was one of Hwaar's, though not, Winddancer had assured him, a primary. When Winddancer had offered Kamren the feather soon after the second Council meeting, he had explained the Tayledras custom of trading feathers. Offering a feather from one's bondbird meant that you wanted an exclusive relationship for as long as the recipient chose to keep the feather or until the giver asked for the feather back. The feather signaled to other Hawkbrothers that you were in such a relationship, and most Tayledras were familiar enough with each others' birds to be able to make an accurate guess as to whose feather you were wearing. Wearing a primary from another's bondbird indicated that the relationship was a permanent one. As he refastened his bag, Kamren wondered if Winddancer would ask for the feather back when he returned to Valdemar. Kamren hoped not, though he found it unlikely that Winddancer would want to maintain the kind of relationship that would imply if Kamren was gone for long periods of time. If he was brutally honest with himself, Kamren wasn't sure he himself would be able to maintain that kind of discipline, either. He straightened up and slung the pack up onto his back, putting the thought away for later. He found himself face-to-face with Winddancer.

"Please," the Hawkbrother whispered, taking Kamren into his arms in a swift, fierce hug, "try to stay alive until I can get there." He released Kamren and stepped back a pace. "Zhai'helleva," he spoke the traditional Shin'a'in words Kamren had heard occasionally in the Vale.

"Wind to thy wings," Kamren responded properly in Tayledras, and Winddancer and the scouts turned, disappearing into the trees faster than Kamren could blink. Alone, there was nothing left for Kamren to do but turn and start walking south.

* * *

Sasseth stood on the top of his Tower, looking out over the parapet and considering the new information that had just come to him. Interesting information. It seemed that the Outlander those Birdfools had stolen from his Changebeasts was wandering straight towards his territory as if nothing had happened! Rage flared up in him at the thought of that interloper bringing his accursed instrument right past the Tower. He hated music, and all those who made it. Sasseth felt his fangs involuntarily extending as he paced the rooftop. He looked around for something to destroy, but the only thing of little value was a servant girl sweeping the debris that tended to accumulate up here. For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of killing her, but he restrained himself with an effort of will. She was the daughter of one of his tame mages, and if he killed her he would lose the leverage he had over the man. Even one mage was not something to lose simply because of a bit if temper. Sasseth contented himself with snatching the broom out of her hands and shredding it with his fingernails. The child fled.

Sasseth snarled and dropped the remnants of the broom, adding to the mess the servant had been cleaning. He leaned over the parapet again and looked north to where the lute-plucker was making his way slowly towards the Tower. North to where the Birdkin lived. Yet another enemy Sasseth longed to destroy. He wasn't powerful enough yet, but some day, he would destroy them all, every Clan. _Then_ he would have power, more power than he had ever possessed. And he would have the secret of their Heartstones into the bargain. Well, if he could not yet defeat the Birdkin, he could at least sink his fangs into that woefully undefended Outlander. That one would not escape a second time. _How typical of the Birdfools to cast him adrift like that,_ he thought scornfully. He paused. Actually, it wasn't typical at all. Very few Outlanders ever got into Birdkin territory; those few that did seldom left.

Sasseth frowned. Something wasn't right here. Could this hapless wandering Outlander be connected with the strange activity going on around his Tower lately? The Birdkin had been running around like ants these past few weeks, trying to avoid being seen while setting up a series of small, almost invisible, magics. Sasseth had decided to watch them carefully but keep his surveillance secret for the time being. He wanted to find out what they were up to. They did not disrupt any of his traps, and whatever they were doing was too well shielded for him to observe more closely without alerting them. The traveler, on the other hand, was not a mage and made an easy target. Perhaps he had seen something while in that protected Vale. Or, and the thought made Sasseth smile with the beginnings of a plan, he was in league with those Birdfools. Perhaps the traveler and the activities on the borders were connected, and Sasseth could disrupt them without having to attack the Birdkin directly. One-on-one, Sasseth knew he was a match for any of them. The problem was that, as a group, they could command far more power than Sasseth could defeat, and they were too wary to ever let a mage out alone.

Sasseth turned, striding quickly to the shelter in the middle of the roof. In the spring and summer months, when it was warm enough, he spent most of his time up here, so everything he needed was ready to hand. He took his scrying crystal off its stand and curled himself gracefully onto a couch. Using the crystal to amplify his Sight and direct his energies, Sasseth searched for the musician. He knew already that the man didn't have the means to shield himself, but a shield could have been laid on him from the outside. Ah, so they had. Sasseth delicately poked his Sight further, probing carefully and slowly around the multi-layer shields that had been set. Whoever had done this must be a formidable mage. Perhaps even powerful enough to challenge Sasseth himself. That was an interesting thought, but Sasseth filed it away to consider later. He had to keep his mind on the task at hand.

It took Sasseth, moving cautiously, a long while to worm his way under the shields. Once he did, he was taken aback by what he Saw. The same mage that had set the intricately layered shields had laid another, even more masterful spell. Sasseth carefully followed the threads of it, tracing out what it was designed to do, and got another shock. This spell was designed to trigger automatically once the lute-plucker was inside Sasseth's magical defenses, eating them away inside out. So, this Outlander was indeed in league with the Birdkin, and they expected Sasseth to capture him. Cautiously, so as to give no sign of his tampering should the spell's designer take a cursory glance, Sasseth altered the spell enough to make it ineffective. He wished he could twist the spell to somehow harm the Outlander, but it was simply too well made. Sasseth had to content himself with making sure it wouldn't trigger.

Disengaging carefully, Sasseth lay back, feeling drained. The sun was well on its way toward noon. All of that probing and delicate altering had taken longer than he thought. Sasseth summoned a servant, who appeared instantly. He sent orders to capture the Outlander, and told the boy to fetch a slave to replenish his own energies with, as well as fruit and water. While he waited for his victim, Sasseth settled back to think about these new developments. Specifically, to think about the powerful Birdkin mage that had set the trap. That was a mage to court or coerce for his retinue, if he could tame him (or her; Sasseth's female mages were among his best, and were easier to control). Sasseth felt lust building, and hoped this Adept would prove as challenging as he promised.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note

This story is set in the Pelagir hills about a generation after Vanyel's adventures in the _Last Herald-Mage_ trilogy. I chose the Tayledras very deliberately to reflect the characters I was writing. After finishing the story, I discovered other characters in other stories who share names with some of my characters. This is pure coincidence, and is not intended to infringe upon any other stories. I simply invented names that suit my characters. I would also like to thank Mendeia for agreeing to be my beta.

Warning: contains some male/male romance (nothing beyond what you might see in a PG-13 movie) as well as suggestions of torture and non-consensual seduction.

Disclaimer: Although the characters are my own, the world belongs exclusively to Mercedes Lackey, and I do not make a profit from this story. I am just borrowing her world and a few phrases from her writings for my own purposes.

Chapter 3

_No plan survives engagement with the foe;_

_The blood-mage was as clever as a crow._

_The magic failed, the border remained stout_

_With Bard on inside, Tayledras without._

_The Bard was dragged up many flights of stairs_

_The face of evil caught him unawares._

_His lidless eyes stared out with pupils slit_

_A fork'd tongue from his lipless mouth did flit._

_And yet the snake-like form, though rather thin,_

_Sent tingles of desire across Kam's skin._

—From "The Defeat of Sasseth" by Summersong k'Vala

Kamren hung limply over his captor's shoulder, trying vainly to keep his head from jolting too much as the man walked. His nose rubbed against the coarse fabric of the man's shirt with each step, and he could smell the stale sweat of someone who was less than fastidious about personal cleanliness. Though he had, partly to keep up appearances and partly because he was suddenly scared witless, tried to put up a fight, Kamren had been captured with painful ease. Literally painful; he had been very quickly divested of his sword, then clubbed over the head with a stout cudgel. When he came back to his senses minutes or hours later, he had found himself bound securely, bouncing in this awkward position, with guards on either side. Kamren was definitely having second (or even third) thoughts about this plan, and wondered what had come over him when he volunteered. Now he could only hope that Winddancer, Rainsong and the others would be able to rescue him quickly. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and wished desperately he were anywhere else.

Kamren felt the large man carrying him begin to climb, and figured they must be getting into the hills now. His head throbbed with each step, and he could feel a trickle of blood making its way from the gash on his temple up into his hair. He hoped he would be set down soon; travelling upside down with a pounding headache was starting to make him nauseous. He tried to count the steps his carrier took, but his head swam and everything blurred.

Kamren struggled back to awareness, wondering what was happening. When he felt his captor begin to move again, Kamren realized they had stopped. He risked opening his eyes, and waited for them to focus. When they did, Kamren saw flagstone floors and walls of well-fitted masonry. His heart leapt. _I'm inside!_ he thought. _That means the barriers are down!_ He closed his eyes and hoped Winddancer would come for him soon. As far as Kamren was concerned, this miserable adventure couldn't end too soon. He tried to focus on clearing his head, but pain swam dizzily in front of his eyelids, and his stomach churned with fear and nausea. He was helpless, and his only hope of escape lay in an ambush that was still on the other side of the walls, seemingly a world away.

"Top of the Tower," a gruff voice advised, and Kamren felt his captor nod, then start climbing what felt like an endless staircase. He realized with a shock that he was going directly to the master of the fortress, or at least a high-level subordinate, rather than going to the dungeon as he had expected. He tried to prepare himself and bring his fuddled mind into focus, but Kamren was hovering on the edge of panic, and none of the centering exercises he had learned could suppress it. At this point, his only hope was that he could keep what scant control he had of his stomach and not disgrace himself.

As they emerged through a door at the top of the stairs, Kamren could feel sunlight on his back. He was set roughly on the stones and lay where he fell, trying to catch his breath. "Remove his bonds," ordered a new voice, soft and sibilant, "and bring his baggage here."

The ropes holding Kamren's wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles loosened and fell away. Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked in the sunlight, eyes watering with pain. He could see no one, but behind him he heard the door close quietly, leaving no sound except softly hissing breath somewhere out of his field of vision.

"So," the voice finally said, "you are in league with those bird-loving fools." It was not a question, and for a moment, Kamren thought the plan had failed. _But no,_ he reminded himself. _He can't know about the spell. He was probably just informed of our parting and made assumptions based on that._ Kamren's hopes were dashed as soon as the mage started speaking again.

"I found that masterful spell someone laid on you. Trust me, we will not be interrupted." His voice had taken on seductive overtones. Kamren felt a shiver run down his back at the implied promise, in spite of his efforts to resist. In a startling flash of understanding, Kamren realized that the Adept was using a bit of the Bardic Gift, or something like it, to manipulate his reactions. Then the sense of the words penetrated through the pain and rising desire and his heart sank as he realized that Winddancer would not be able to save him.

The mage glided into Kamren's field of vision, and Kamren received another shock. He was barely human. His shape was that of a man, tall and lithe. As he walked, he moved with a boneless grace, seeming to flow forward rather than walk. The mage wore tight-fitting leather that concealed nothing of his considerable physical attributes, and Kamren found himself blushing hotly. The mage's skin had a strange matte quality to it, and Kamren realized with a start that that all of his visible body was covered in tiny, hard scales. Kamren looked up into the mage's face and immediately wished he hadn't. The thin mouth and flat nose were surmounted by a pair of perfectly round lidless eyes. The pupils were vertical slits, the irises a very pale yellow. Kamren found himself trapped, whether unable or unwilling to look away he couldn't say. He was repulsed, yet at the same time, the face and body held a fascination and attraction that he couldn't resist. He could feel his body responding, and blushed even hotter. He hoped his reaction wasn't as obvious as he feared it was. The wide mouth widened further, and Kamren could see the tips of what appeared to be fangs as the mage smiled, the eyes taking note of Kamren's very physical reaction before returning to his face.

"I am Sasseth," he announced, as if the name alone should impress Kamren with his importance. "From now on, you do as I wish. First, tell me about these friends of yours, these Birdlovers. What have they been up to this past week skulking around the edges of my little kingdom?" Sasseth put one long-fingered hand on his hip, sauntering over to lean in closer. His lips parted slightly and a narrow tongue, delicately forked at the tip, licked them seductively. Kamren shivered, but firmly reminded himself of the danger the others would be in if he gave in.

"I don't know what they're doing," Kamren answered as truthfully as he dared. His voice sounded hoarse and raw, and scratched in his throat. He swallowed hard around the lump of fear. In all honesty, he didn't know the technicalities of their magic, just the basic plan behind it. Hopefully he could get by with the bare, literal truth, for he didn't think he would be able to lie convincingly. He knew, however, that he would not be able to stand up to determined interrogation and would soon be telling this creature everything he knew; already he could feel his body reacting to Sasseth's blatant sexuality and the force of his seduction. Kamren was more sure with each passing heartbeat that there was mindmagic (or possibly true magic?) behind it. He only hoped that he could buy enough time, distract the mage long enough with half-truths, for the Hawkbrothers to discover that their plan had failed and get away. Kamren knew now that this mage was more powerful than the Tayledras had imagined, and that he himself was as good as dead already. He now hoped fervently that Winddancer would not come for him. It could only lead to more deaths and eventual defeat. Despair threatened to overwhelm him, and fought back a whimper of fear.

Kamren's answer must have betrayed a hint of hesitation, for Sasseth pulled himself up. "No matter," the mage said casually. "You will soon tell me all you know. But first, I will finish my business with you. Then I can find out about your friends."

Kamren craned his neck to watch as Sasseth glided behind him, then scrambled around to face the Adept when he heard the jangle of lute-strings. The mage had dropped the padded case and was holding the uncovered lute with an expression of distaste. He contemplated it for a few heartbeats, while Kamren sat staring in an agony of suspense, wondering what was about to happen. Suddenly, as Kamren cried out in protest, Sasseth whirled the instrument over his head and smashed it against the stones beneath his feet. The lute, as if protesting this harsh treatment, jangled discordantly as it broke. Provoked to greater destruction by the sound, Sasseth tore at the instrument with his long fingernails, not stopping until all that was left was a pile of unrecognizable splinters and coiled strings at his feet. Kamren's heart pounded in fear as he witnessed the rage directed at a mere piece of wood and string; how much more would the Blood-Adept be capable of directing at a human who crossed his wishes? _And_, a tiny voice inside Kamren's head wondered, _how much energy will he get from my death that he can then use against Winddancer?_

Only when the pile of wood bore not even a passing resemblance to a lute did Sasseth turn his gaze, so threatening yet so loaded with promise, back to Kamren. In spite of his outrage over what had been done to his lute, and in spite of his very personal fear for his own safety, Kamren was once more caught in that mesmerizing gaze, and his skin once more began to tingle. He tried to hold on to his resolve to keep everything he knew to himself, but he had no illusions that he could resist Sasseth. And when Kamren could resist no longer, Winddancer and the scouts would be doomed.

Sasseth favored him with another predatory, fang-tipped smile. "Please," he said in a tone calculated to simultaneously threaten and promise, "don't make this harder on yourself. Tell me about the Adept who laid that spell on you." He traced a pointed fingernail down the side of Kamren's throat, eliciting a shiver of mingled arousal and fear. Kamren knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that Sasseth could kill him as easily as he was making Kamren need him. He swallowed his moan of fear and pleasure, and tried to frame a non-answer.

* * *

Winddancer fought down despair. Stormcrow had reported that Kamren had indeed been brought inside the fortress, but the shields were still in place. Somehow, the spell hadn't worked, and no one had thought to have a plan for this contingency. Winddancer had been so certain of his abilities both to create and to hide the spell that no one had even considered the possibility of failure. Wasn't there a Shin'a'in proverb that fit this situation? _Even the best plan seldom survives the first encounter with the enemy._ Or perhaps, _When you plan for almost everything, the one thing you failed to plan for will happen_. Well, they had encountered the enemy, and the one thing they had not planned for had come to pass. Winddancer writhed with guilt. He had convinced everyone, including Kamren, that his abilities were beyond doubt or question, and somehow he had failed. Now Kamren, like the plan, would not survive, unless they could devise a new way to get him out of there, and fast. Winddancer knew Kamren didn't have much time before the mage did whatever it was that he had wanted Kamren for, and that purpose was almost certainly fatal. A sudden wave of fierce protectiveness and love nearly overwhelmed Winddancer for a moment. _Even if he can't stay with me afterwards,_ he vowed to himself, _I MUST save him._ Doubt once more assailed him. _But how?_

Winddancer took a deep breath, reminding himself that hysteria and panic would help no one. There would be plenty of time to beat himself up later, if only they could survive to see later. _Think!_ He told himself. _There must be a way in._ They couldn't break the shields from the outside; he was simply not strong enough for that, and the other mages were all scattered too far away to be of any use, even if all of them together would be able to manage it, which was not entirely certain. Breaking them from the inside had failed, though Winddancer still couldn't see how. He had set that spell _very_ carefully. Once more he shied away from allowing the guilt to rise up and overwhelm him. What remained? The only other ways Winddancer knew to break a spell were to persuade the caster to take it down (_Not bloody likely_, he thought) or to kill him. Either one of those required being inside the fortress. They did have an agent inside, but Winddancer could think of no way to contact him, short of sending Hwaar with a written message, even assuming Kamren would have the freedom to receive the note and the ability to read it. If that fell into enemy hands, it would make the current situation even worse. And this was assuming that Kamren, with no true magic of his own, would be able to take on and defeat an Adept-level mage and probably his bodyguards as well. Winddancer did not think that was a reasonable assumption to make.

Winddancer found his mind spinning in circles, once more spiraling in a loop that led to panic and despair. He took another steadying breath and ran through a calming exercise in his mind. Kamren was counting on him, and the scouts were looking to him for direction. This mess was of his making, so it was up to him to fix it. He would _not_ let them down again.

_:I can help you.:_ The mindvoice seemed to come from nowhere, and Winddancer looked around in surprise. The voice had a definite feminine quality to it, but it was no one he recognized, certainly not one of the scouts hidden in the nearby trees and surrounding brush.

_:Who are you?:_ he asked.

_:There is no time to explain,: _came the answer. _:I cannot speak long or I will be caught. They are on the roof, and your friend will not be able to resist much longer. Soon he will tell all he knows, and then he will die. Music is the key. It may…:_ The voice paused broke off abruptly, then hastily added, _:They will find me. I must go. Zhai'helleva.:_ She was gone from his mind as suddenly as she had appeared.

Winddancer puzzled over this communication for a moment. Where did it come from? Whoever it was, she had intimate knowledge, both of the enemy in general and of what was happening right now. _That means she's inside!_ Winddancer thought in surprise. He remembered what she had said about Kamren running out of time and decided on impulse to trust her. He didn't really have much choice in the matter; no other means of rescue had come to him. Also, her use of Shin'a'in was a point in her favor; Winddancer doubted she was working under orders from their enemy. No, she was more likely a disgruntled employee or (more likely) slave with the power of Mindspeech.

So, if Winddancer was going to heed her advice, he had to figure out what she wanted him to do. What did she mean by 'music is key'? It must have something to do with the fact that Kamren was a Bard. Was that why he'd been attacked in the first place? _But how do I send him a message? He doesn't have Mindspeech, and written communications are still as risky as ever._ _Mindspeech has now been shown to be risky, in any case. He obviously has ways of detecting its use._ Once more despair threatened to overwhelm him.

Hwaar dropped onto a low branch so he was right in front of Winddancer's face, and hopped up and down to get his bondmate's attention. _:I go,:_ he insisted. _:Fly high. Up to Tower.:_ He must have been listening to Winddancer's conversation from inside his bondmate's head.

In spite of his worries, Winddancer was forced to smile at the owl's eagerness to help solve the problem. _:You can't Mindspeak him any more than I can, silly bird.:_

Hwaar was persistent. _:Bring something. Something small. Windstick.:_ he insisted. _:Carry to top.:_

Winddancer still hesitated. _:It is dangerous,:_ he reminded his bondmate. _:There are certain to be archers.:_

Hwaar flipped his wings impatiently in imitation of a human shrug. _:Fly fast,:_ he answered, unfazed by the risk. _:Hurry,:_ he urged again. _:Save human's mate.:_

_:Well, if you're certain…:_ Quickly, Winddancer drew his small flute out of a hidden pocket inside his tunic and handed it to his bondbird. _:Be careful,:_ he admonished the owl. _:Avoid the walls, and make sure he gets this.:_ Hwaar Sent a wordless burst of confidence, and glided silently off into the late-afternoon sky. Winddancer turned to the scouts.

"I got a communication from inside, and I sent Hwaar in with a message for Kamren. If I understood correctly, the barrier will come down soon. When that happens, follow me inside. Kamren is being held at the top of the Tower. If my informant is correct, our enemy is there with him. As the Adept in this group, I will need to get up there as quickly as possible; none of you stand a chance against a mage of his strength. Your job is to hold off any guards inside. Don't let them follow or hinder me." Winddancer looked around the circle of faces, and saw nothing but grim determination. Rainsong gave him a curt nod. Satisfied, he turned to Watch the spire of rock through his screen of trees, waiting for the flicker of mage-energies that would tell him that they could enter. The outcome was still far from certain, but hope nestled once more within Winddancer's breast. He was going to rescue Kamren and free this territory of a Bloodmage.

* * *

"I shall soon tire of this game," Sasseth hissed menacingly. "You do not wish me to use more direct methods of getting what I want. If knowledge of this Winddancer's infidelity will not convince you that he is not worth dying for, I can find other ways to convince you." Kamren lay on the flagstones, panting and wishing desperately he were somewhere else. The late-afternoon sun dazzled his eyes as it slowly sank, so that at times it seemed as if Sasseth stepped directly out of the bright sphere onto the rooftop. Pain from the cut on Kamren's temple throbbed in his head, and his body flamed with a desire that ignited an equally strong sense of shame. Confusion tumbled about in his head. Some of what Sasseth had said made so much sense, and explained some of the Hawkbrother's actions Kamren had not been able to explain on his own. Winddancer had been acting strangely this past week, falling silent or losing focus at odd moments, sometimes drawing back momentarily from Kamren when he sought to move closer. Sasseth's suggestions made so much sense that Kamren couldn't believe he hadn't thought of them himself. Kamren focused his attention on the flagstones in front of his nose, as the safest place to look. The way his vision blurred slightly as unwanted tears filled his eyes, one of them vaguely resembled a harp.

Sasseth leaned in close, and his forked tongue flicked out as if to taste Kamren's fear. Vaguely, Kamren wondered what emotion Sasseth would play with this time, or if he was finally going to start using physical pain. So far, although the mage had not actually touched Kamren, he had evoked doubt, anger, overwhelming lust, and abject terror. Kamren knew he would not be able to withstand much more of this. He had already given away Winddancer's name and their relationship, along with the doubts he had about Winddancer's feelings for him. Soon, he knew, he would give up as much of the Hawkbrothers' plan as he knew, as well, and then all would be lost.

Sasseth smiled and reached out one sharp-nailed fingertip to trace the broken skin where Kamren had been clubbed. Kamren hissed in pain as he felt a fresh trickle of blood run down his cheek. Sasseth's perfectly round pale-yellow eyes caught Kamren's and held them, seeming to gaze deep into the Bard's soul. Kamren tried to look away, but could not tear his eyes from those mesmerizing slit pupils. To distract himself from the fear and unbidden lust, he concentrated on remembering the harp-shaped stone on the floor. Suddenly—

Pain. Brilliant, white-hot, tearing pain, as if someone had reached into his head, grabbed onto something in there, and pulled. As quickly as it had come, the pain ebbed. "You see how easily I can take your thoughts from you," Sasseth commented casually. "You would do well to remember that the next time I ask you a question. This time I only took a surface thought, as a warning. But I can dig as deeply into your mind as I must to find what I need, and the deeper I reach the longer the pain will last. If I reach too far, the pain will never go away. I can pluck out memories you don't even know you have. And," he added menacingly, "I can plant memories you'll wish in vain to forget." Kamren gasped and propped himself up with his hands, still reeling from the shock of the Adept's invasion. He struggled to keep himself conscious, terrified of what was happening but even more terrified of what would happen if he blacked out. The moment of silence was shattered by Sasseth's sudden, violent curse.

"Music! Is that all you think about?!" the mage exclaimed. "I should crush you like an insect!" Kamren scrambled to his feet and backed away from the crazed Adept, suddenly desperate to be as far from him as possible. The desperation gave him strength he didn't know he had. Sasseth was fuming, his fangs now fully extended and dripping venom. The liquid hissed as it splashed drop by drop onto the flagstones. He looked like a snake about to strike, and Kamren instinctively recoiled from him. No longer was Kamren aroused by the Adept; all that was left was pure terror and revulsion.

As Kamren stared, wondering vaguely if he could make a dash for the staircase, a large white shape flashed by overhead, and Kamren had just wits enough left to catch the object it dropped to him. The owl disappeared as silently as it had come. The rod he had dropped was Winddancer's flute.

Kamren's first thought, knowing Sasseth's hatred of music and guessing what the sight of this gift would do to his already inflamed temper, was to toss the flute over the wall. But if Winddancer was risking Hwaar's safety to send him the instrument, it must be important. Heart pounding, afraid it was the last thing he would ever do, Kamren raised the flute to his lips and started to play. _At least if he kills me,_ he thought resignedly, _I'll die a Bard._

At the first soft, tremulous notes that emerged from the flute, a change came over Sasseth. Although still clearly enraged, perhaps even angrier than he had been before, he now moved more sluggishly. Still moving like a striking serpent, Sasseth was slowed enough that Kamren was able to move aside as the Adept lunged at him. Encouraged by this reaction, Kamren modified the scale he had been playing into a common Valdemaren lullaby, one he had played so many times he didn't have to think about it anymore, and used his Gift to the fullest extent he could.

The result was gratifying. As the music and Kamren's Bardic Gift exerted their influence, Sasseth gradually sank into a kind of stupor. He had no eyelids to close, but his eyes became dull and dead-looking as a thick membrane slid across them, and he sank bonelessly to the floor. _Now what?_ Kamren thought. _I can't do this forever, and the moment I stop or get out of hearing, he'll probably wake up. I can't escape on my own!_ Kamren could feel panic rising once more, and he tried frantically to suppress it lest it find expression through his music and his Gift. He had never imagined that the Bardic Gift could ever be a matter of life or death. Once again he felt the lullaby becoming more frenetic, and once more he tried to suppress the panic.

With an obvious effort, Sasseth partially roused himself and crawled to his feet. He staggered clumsily and entirely gracelessly toward Kamren, who easily avoided his attack. However, some of Sasseth's apparent lack of coordination was a feint; he moved much faster than Kamren had anticipated as he snatched the flute from the Bard's hands and crushed it in one fist with a loud crack. Kamren recoiled in terror as the film drew back from Sasseth's eyes, leaving them bright with malice and anger.

"Thisss time," he hissed, nearly incoherent with rage, "I will not play with you. I ssshall take what I need and then dessstroy you!"

The door to the roof burst open at that moment, causing Kamren to jump nearly out of his skin. Sasseth turned toward the sound, hands crackling with energy even Kamren could see. Winddancer was halfway across the roof, and was already flinging a lightning bolt at his enemy. Sasseth sent one to meet it, the two bolts shattering against each other in a shower of sparks, and the mage-battle began.

Kamren was terrified. He huddled against the parapet, hoping to avoid being hit by stray magical attacks. His heart thundered in his ears, and his head felt as if it was tearing apart where he had been wounded. Fear coiled in his gut, wrapping his insides into a writhing knot. Whimpering, he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped it would end soon.

Winddancer's curse of pain brought Kamren's eyes flying open again. The Hawkbrother looked decidedly singed, and his left arm was oozing blood. Sasseth looked triumphant. Fear warred with anger, and suddenly Kamren found himself wishing he had a weapon. _I _do _have a weapon!_ he suddenly realized. Kamren started singing.

* * *

Winddancer reached for his reserves of personal power once more, shaping the energy into a spear to try and pierce his enemy's shields where he had spotted a weakness. His own shields were beginning to thin under the constant attacks, and he could feel himself tiring. The Changechild would outlast him in an endurance match; Winddancer had to end it quickly. The Beast has access to the stolen energy of his blood-magic as well as the magic native to this area, where Winddancer only had his own. All the _ley-_lines in the area were tainted with bloodmagic. So he gathered himself for a decisive blow.

Winddancer swore as the Changechild scored a hit through shields that were failing. The Tayledras Adept redirected the energy he had been preparing to use for an attack, using it instead to strengthen his shields. They wouldn't be able to hold against another blow like that. Ignoring the pain coursing through his left shoulder, he changed tactics, hoping to catch the enemy Adept by surprise. He launched a physical attack, throwing himself forward while pulling the knife from his belt. He never found out if his ploy had worked. Kamren began singing what sounded like a lullaby, and the Adept abruptly changed.

Physically, the Changechild moved more slowly. His eyes filmed over and grew dull, and he swayed as if drunk. What Winddancer Saw with his Magesight was even more interesting. The Adept's energies…faded. It was as if the music, coupled with Kamren's mindmagic, was suppressing the magical power in him, dampening it like sand on a campfire.

Winddancer shook off the fascination. There was still an enemy before him, and Kamren couldn't sing forever. Throwing himself forward once more, Winddancer resumed his attack, drawing on his last resources to launch a simultaneous magical attack, abandoning his shields in all-out assault. The mage, though obviously dazed, managed to deflect the magical blow, but the force of Winddancer's rush caught him square in the chest, and he toppled over backwards with the Tayledras on top of him. The Changechild flailed wildly, then went still as Winddancer's blade found his throat. The light faded from his eyes as he fell back with a gurgle and lay still.

* * *

Sasseth thrilled with desire. This was the mage that had laid that nearly perfect trap; he recognized the magical signature. He would have to be careful not to kill this one, if he could avoid it. This mage, he wanted. True, he would be difficult to control. But everyone had his breaking point, and Sasseth enjoyed a challenge. He would succeed in twisting this one to his will as he had succeeded with many others before this.

Sasseth grinned as one of his levin bolts found a hole in the Birdkin's shields and the man swore. He had no time to enjoy the pain he had inflicted, however, as the musician, forgotten until now, chose that moment to begin singing. Immediately Sasseth's vision began to cloud, and he could feel his grasp on magical energies slipping away. Fighting through a sudden mental fog, Sasseth had just enough control left to deflect the attack directed at him by the Birdfool. A sudden blow struck him full force and he fell over backwards with a crushing weight on his chest. Pain stabbed through the mental fog, banishing it in a sudden clarity of realization. The cursed Birdfool was sitting atop him and had buried a knife in his throat.

He was dying. The life of this body and all his previous forms flashed before him. Once again, he was betrayed by the mortality of the body he existed in.

He could use what was left to have revenge on them—or he could escape and get his revenge another time.

He chose as he had always chosen, laughing (or trying to laugh) in spite of the terrible pain that wracked this latest body he had stolen.

* * *

Kamren let the song die on his lips. The battle was over; Sasseth was dead. They had won. Kamren sagged with fatigue and relief, feeling the beginning of a reaction headache building. He looked across the floor, seeing a confusion of scorch marks and blood. Most of the blood was Sasseth's, bubbling out around Winddancer's dagger buried in the monster's throat. Kamren suddenly doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the flagstones. When he finished, he became aware that his head was once again pounding violently.

Kamren crawled dazedly over to where Winddancer sat dazedly atop his fallen enemy. The Hawkbrother's eyes were glassy, and his skin was clammy when Kamren reached out to touch his cheek. "Winddancer," he murmured, concerned. Winddancer turned slowly to face him. After a few moments, recognition brightened the Adept's expression, and a hint of color returned to his face.

"Kamren," Winddancer smiled weakly. "I'm glad I got here in time. But I could not have done it without your help. Thank you." His smile turned into a grimace of pain.

Kamren was immediately solicitous. "Is there something I can do to help?" He gestured toward Winddancer's singed left arm and the jagged cut on the shoulder.

Winddancer looked at his injury as if he were surprised to see it. "That?" He shrugged his right shoulder, careful not to move the left. "It will be Healed when we return to the Vale. It isn't serious. At the moment, I am drained from the magic use, and I caught some of the backlash from his," he indicated Sasseth with a wave of his hand, "death. The fatigue will pass with rest, as will the headache. What of you? Did he hurt you?"

Kamren reached up to gingerly touch the scabbed-over lump on his head. "I think I'm alright. I got this when Sasseth's people captured me, but he didn't actually hurt me." He shivered, remembering how close he had come to surrendering to Sasseth's will, how close he had come to begging the creature to take him. Remembering the lies he had been told to turn him against the Tayledras, and against Winddancer. Or were they actually lies? Maybe Sasseth, who knew the Tayledras longer, had been telling the truth. Suddenly, he had to know. "You…do you…really…love me? He said…you couldn't…you were just dallying…I didn't want to believe him…but…" Tears welled up in his eyes, blinding him, and Kamren blinked them away, letting them roll unheeded down his cheeks as he searched for reassurance.

Winddancer looked directly at Kamren, his clear blue eyes seeming to see right into the depths of Kamren's soul. He put a gentle finger on the Bard's lips, stilling the confused tumble of words that poured out. "Kamren," he said, still staring unwaveringly into Kamren's eyes. "_Ashke_. I do love you. My biggest fear was that I would get here too late to save you. I was so afraid," he voice broke and he took a deep breath before continuing, "that I wouldn't be able to stop him. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you. I only wish I had gotten here sooner and spared you the pain." He slid to the ground beside Kamren and wrapped his arms protectively around the Bard, holding so tightly that Kamren could feel Winddancer's heart hammering against his own.

"He just made it seem so…real, so reasonable," Kamren whispered into Winddancer's shoulder—the right shoulder, he noted absently. "And you never said anything before; you never told me you felt that strongly. Some of what you said seemed to point in that direction, but I wasn't sure. And sometimes, it seemed as if you didn't really care, the way you would pull back," Kamren made no effort to pull free of Winddancer's crushing embrace, ignoring the smell of sweat and the sticky blood seeping through his tunic. He knew that soon, the reality of what had happened would catch up with them and there would be things to take care of, but he feared to move lest the moment they had be lost prematurely.

"I didn't want to make it more difficult for you when you had to leave," Winddancer answered softly. "If I could I would keep you here with me, but I know you have duties awaiting you and a home in Valdemar. I don't want to force you to choose," Winddancer pressed his lips to the top of Kamren's head.

Kamren's mind reeled. Winddancer's words implied that he could stay if he chose. He might not have to return Winddancer's feather after all! Elation surged through him, followed by a determination to do whatever it took to prove to Winddancer and the other Tayledras that he was worthy of staying with them. He drew back slightly from the embrace so he could look into Winddancer's face. The Hawkbrother's eyes were shining with unshed tears. Kamren reached up to pull Winddancer's head closer, and kissed him soundly. When they broke apart for breath, he asked, with the ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth, "Does that mean I can stay if I want to?"

It was Winddancer's turn to be startled. Eyes suddenly wide, he nodded. "It has happened on rare occasions that an Outlander has joined one of the Tayledras Clans. But," he paused. "Don't you have friends, family, duty back home?"

Kamren shook his head sadly. "No family that cares to acknowledge me, and very few friends. As for duty, I'm sure the Bardic Circle would be glad to be rid of me; I'm something of an embarrassment to them."

"An embarrassment to Bards?!" Winddancer looked completely taken aback. "Surely you don't compare unfavorably with the other Bards in Valdemar! I've heard you play; I cannot imagine…"

Kamren shook his head again, blushing a little at the implied compliment. "No, none of it has anything to do with my abilities or anything I've done. It's who I am that no one likes. It's because I'm shaych and never bothered to hide it. At first, I even flaunted it a bit; it made me feel somewhat akin to Bard Stefen. That was probably my biggest mistake. But here it doesn't seem to matter. Everyone likes you, and you don't have to hide what you are."

"Shaych. That sounds like a short version of the Tayledras word _shay-a-chern_, and I'll warrant they mean the same thing. Oh, _ashke_, I had no idea it was that bad for you in Valdemar." Winddancer tried unsuccessfully to brush a curl off Kamren's forehead; it flopped right back.

"Oh," Kamren shrugged. "It's not as bad as all that. No one says anything, but they manage to convey their distaste and disapproval clearly enough. Nothing overt. They all conveniently forget that their great hero Vanyel and the renowned Bard Stefen were shaych. They won't miss me in Valdemar. I would much rather stay here with you. I get so tired of being alone."

Winddancer smiled. "I'm glad. But maybe not _right_ here. Now that the worst of my fatigue has passed, we should collect the scouts I left fighting with the gate-guards and begin to make our way back to the Vale where we can both be Healed."

Disentangling themselves from their embrace, Kamren picked up his pack while Winddancer retrieved his dagger. Kamren stared sadly at the remains of his lute for a moment before slowly following Winddancer down the stairs. The sight that met them in the courtyard took them by surprise. A small crowd consisting mostly of people dressed as servants stood in a cluster, guarded by a few of the Tayledras scouts. The rest of the scouts stood off to one side, clustered around something Kamren couldn't see. Dead guards lay scattered throughout the courtyard. One of the scouts guarding the servants stepped forward as soon as she caught sight of the two men coming down the stairs, and spoke rapidly to Winddancer in Tayledras. Kamren couldn't catch much of what she said, nor of Winddancer's reply; it was something about "captive mages", "burnout", and "slaves". Winddancer's equally rapid reply seemed to be about returning Sasseth's household to their homes.

As Winddancer looked at the former slaves again, Kamren noticed a little girl, no more than ten years old, push forward through the crowd. She looked directly at Winddancer, catching his eyes just before he turned away. "Zhai'helleva," she said softly, giving him a smile that was not less sincere for being edged with sadness.

Winddancer started, and looked more closely at the girl. His face lit up with a gentle smile of recognition and gratitude. "Wind to thy wings, little sister," he answered, then turned to the second group of scouts. Before he could address any question or command to them, they silently parted to allow Winddancer and Kamren to see what lay on the ground among them. Kamren gasped.

On the flagstones lay Rainsong. The pool of blood surrounding her and the spear thrust through her chest gave Kamren all the information he needed. Beside her on the ground, feathers slicked down in distress, sat her owl, hooting softly and mournfully at long intervals. Nearby, Hwaar chirped worriedly.

Winddancer choked back a cry and knelt beside her, taking one of her lifeless hands in his. The owl mantled, but didn't make any other aggressive moves. Kamren stood silent for a long minute, but finally he couldn't take it anymore. The bird's distress was palpable. He knelt warily down beside the owl, remembering Winddancer's warning never to handle a bird without permission, but the bondbird was busy watching Winddancer. "What," Kamren tried to say through a throat thick with emotion. It came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What happens to her bondbird?"

Winddancer looked up, though his eyes didn't quite focus on Kamren as he answered. "Occasionally a bird will bond to someone else, although that is rare. Usually they fly away and become wild. Because Kytha is mated to Hwaar, she will probably stay in the Vale, though she will likely remain unbonded." He spoke mechanically, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. When he had finished his explanation, he turned briefly back to Rainsong before standing up with a sigh. "We should go," he announced shortly.

Several scouts moved forward and lifted the body, while some remained behind "to sort out the mess here," per Winddancer's orders. The scouts returning to the Vale began filing out of the courtyard following Winddancer. Those bearing Rainsong fell in behind the rest and as they began to move, Kytha chirped her distress.

Unsure of what to do since everyone else seemed too preoccupied to pay attention to the bird (or else they were supposed to ignore her, as she was technically unbonded now), Kamren crouched down next to Kytha and coaxed the owl first onto his wrist and then, as she was fairly heavy, to his shoulder. He rose, wincing as Kytha's talons sank through his unpadded tunic into the flesh of his shoulder in her effort to keep her balance. Hwaar rose into the air once Kytha was settled, and Kamren could have sworn Winddancer's bondbird gave him an approving look as he flew past.

Kamren followed the others, moving carefully so as to unbalance the owl on his shoulder as little as possible. Not that he thought she would fall; quite the contrary, she gripped painfully with her talons to maintain her balance. Kamren very quickly gained appreciation for the padded shoulders of the Tayledras tunics.

As they journeyed, Kytha seemed to come out of her state of shock a little. At least, she started being more considerate of the shoulder she perched on, loosening her death-grip on his shoulder and using her wings for balance whenever possible. About midnight the Tayledras stopped and up a campsite. As Kamren joined the mournful circle around the fire, the owl remained on his shoulder, snuggling close into his neck, her feathers tickling his ear. She seemed to take comfort from his nearness, so Kamren let her be, though the muscles in his back were protesting the unaccustomed weight.

One by one the scouts retired to their bedrolls. Winddancer had not spoken a word since they left the fortress, and Kamren stared anxiously at him. Finally Winddancer, too, rolled himself in his blankets, leaving no one awake except Kamren and the sentry on watch in the tree above. Kamren stirred, being careful not to upset Kytha's balance. His left shoulder was aching from the weight of the bird and the gouges left by her talons, and his hand felt as heavy as a rock. Just as he was wondering how to gently disengage, Kytha ran her beak through his hair, fluffing and preening it, making it appear more rumpled than usual.

_:Fly. Perch.:_ The peremptory command made Kamren gape in astonishment. Dumbfounded, Kamren looked around at the Hawkbrothers sleeping around him; no one else appeared to have heard anything. The owl on his shoulder nudged his ear gently with her beak.

_:Sleep in tree. Not on human.:_ This time, along with the words was an image of an owl—Kytha, he realized—perched comfortably in the branches above his head. Belatedly recognizing that the bondbird was actually speaking into his mind, Kamren extended his arm to allow the owl to sidle down to his wrist, then clumsily launched the bird into the air, trying to imitate the motion he had seen the Tayledras use. It was enough to allow her to flap to a bough in a nearby tree without shredding the skin of his wrist and hand, but Kytha's long wings buffeted his head as she struggled to get airborne. Kamren fell asleep still marveling that the bird had spoken to him, and that he could hear her.

The next morning, Winddancer was more himself, and joined the subdued conversation during breakfast. As the party broke camp to complete their journey back to the Vale, Kytha glided to a gentle landing on Kamren's shoulder. He winced as she closed her talons on skin already torn and raw from yesterday's journey. Winddancer, seeing and understanding Kamren's reaction, halted the group and fashioned a makeshift leather pad on Kamren's shoulder. "She can fly, you know," he advised when he was finished. "You don't have to coddle her, or let her take advantage of you."

Kamren shrugged. "If she is comforted by riding on my shoulder, I don't mind carrying her. I suppose she'll tell me when she's tired of it," he added, though by the light of day he didn't quite believe that Kytha had actually spoken to him. Winddancer gave him a strange look, but showed him how to extend his fist so Kytha could more easily land without hitting Kamren's head with her wings, or landing on his already sore shoulder. After Kamren had practiced catching and launching the owl a few times, Winddancer allowed the group to resume their trek. Kytha moved up Kamren's arm to perch once more on his newly-padded shoulder, gently nibbling his ear before settling into a comfortable position. It was a strange sensation, but Kamren decided he liked it. Although he knew that Kytha's beak was strong enough to snap a deer's spine, Kamren realized he wasn't the least bit afraid.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. By the time they got to the Vale that night Kamren's back and shoulder burned from carrying the extra weight of Kytha on one side in addition to his pack. The cut on his temple had started throbbing again, making Kamren feel light-headed. What he wanted, more than anything, was a hot soak to loosen the knots in his back followed by soft sheets and fluffy pillows.

Winddancer, it seemed, had similar ideas. Once in the Vale the band of scouts scattered, most presumably going to their own _ekeles_, while the ones bearing Rainsong continued into the heart of the Vale. Kamren gladly cast Kytha into the air (at her demand), and she silently followed her erstwhile bondmate. Kamren watched her go, then followed Winddancer down a winding path to the _ekele_ they'd been sharing. They didn't even bother to go up; by silent accord both men stripped off their travel-stained clothes and sank chin-deep into the hot water of the pool at the base of the tree. Kamren hissed as the hot water stung the torn skin Kytha had left on his shoulder, then sighed as the heat soothed the cuts.

Kamren closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to force his sore muscles to relax. After a few minutes, he felt hands turning him in the water and Winddancer started massaging his neck and shoulders. "Now you know," the Adept said, "why it is that we let our birds fly most of the time. They may be lighter than they look, but even so an owl is no featherweight."

Kamren groaned. "I know." He shifted slightly so Winddancer could have better leverage on one of his knots. "So you think she'll stay in the Vale because of Hwaar, but will remain unbonded?" Kamren surprised himself with how much he cared what became of Kytha. He hadn't realized how much she had helped his loneliness while he thought he had been comforting her.

Kamren felt the water ripple around his chest as Winddancer shifted. "I don't know," the Hawkbrother said after a pause. "They do occasionally bond to someone else." Another pause, and Kamren could sense that Winddancer wasn't finished. He waited a few moments, and Winddancer finally spoke again. "This morning, you said that Kytha would tell you if she wanted to fly. Did she…actually Mindspeak you?"

Kamren turned to face his lover. "Well, yes," he answered. "I was very startled; I've never been spoken to mind-to-mind before."

Winddancer nodded, sending more ripples across the surface of the pool. "You do not have the ability of Mindspeech. This means that only an extremely strong Mindspeaker would be able to reach you."

"Like Kytha?"

Winddancer shook his head, winced with pain at the movement. "I don't think any bondbird is a strong enough Mindspeaker to bespeak someone who doesn't have a trace of the ability. No, I think the Star-Eyed approves of your wish to join the Clan."

Kamren gaped, and Winddancer burst out laughing helplessly at his expression. "You look like a landed fish," he apologized when he could speak again. "The Star-Eyed, Kal-enel, is the goddess of the Shin'a'in and Tayledras Clans. It seems she has made known her approval of your wish to become one of us by granting you enough Mindspeech to be able to bond with a bird. I suppose, if you are to continue sharing my _ekele_, we should add another perch for her. The guest perch will do for now, until we can have one brought up."

Kamren was still trying to process the almost casual way in which Winddancer assumed that a goddess would matter-of-factly take a hand in the everyday matters of her people, so it took him a minute to realize what else Winddancer had implied. When it finally dawned on him, he was even more flabbergasted than before. "Her…," he stammered, "You mean _Kytha_?!"

Winddancer smiled at the Bard's confusion. "She seems to have bonded to you. You can refuse her, you know," At Kamren's stunned headshake, he continued. "I will help you learn how to care for her. There is, then, only one formality left. Assuming you meant what you said about leaving Valdemar to live here," Winddancer grinned at Kamren's enthusiastic nod, "all that remains is to bind you formally to the Clan. There are," he cautioned, "responsibilities that go with being a member of a Tayledras Clan."

Kamren flicked water at Winddancer's face. "There are responsibilities to being a Valdemaren Bard," he retorted. "I am no stranger to responsibility."

Winddancer looked shrewdly at the Bard. "And yet you're simply walking away from them." It was not a question, and Kamren nodded unhappily. He had thought long and hard about that on the journey back to the Vale, and had reached some sort of truce with himself. He still wasn't proud of what he was doing, but he felt that abandoning his duties as a Bard of Valdemar was the lesser wrong. It might even be the only thing that could make anything in his life right.

"I had thought, because of Bard Stefen, that I would be accepted at Bardic as I never was at home. I thought I would finally make some friends. I guess I was too honest about myself, too open. No one trusted me, no one cared to be near me. It was almost as if my condition was contagious, and everyone was afraid of becoming shaych by association. I was thoroughly and politely ostracized; even the Masters who should have known better kept me as far from Haven as possible, as often as they could." Kamren sighed. "They'll hardly even know I'm gone. I spent most of my time travelling; the loneliness wasn't as bad when I was alone."

Winddancer pulled Kamren into a gentle hug. "We won't let that happen here. You won't have to be alone anymore," he assured the Bard. Kamren nodded against Winddancer's chest. The warm water had revived him somewhat from the exhaustion of the journey. Gratitude and the sudden release of all the stress built up over the past few days made Kamren clutch Winddancer tighter. The rush of emotion found expression as Kamren started kissing every part of Winddancer not submerged in steaming water. Winddancer had just enough presence of mind left to lift them both up onto the edge of the pool before succumbing to Kamren's attentions.

* * *

Kamren finished singing and looked around. He had poured all his skill and Gift into the performance of his new song, and no Hawkbrother gathered in the clearing was unmoved. Many wept openly as Rainsong's ashes smoldered and the Bard's voice faded into silence. Kamren had written an instrumental accompaniment for "Rainsong's Lament", but had not yet had the time to build himself a new lute. The song worked quite well a capella, he decided.

Kamren pulled his attention back to the present. All of Rainsong's close friends, as well as the group that had gone into Sasseth's fortress and the Council were gathered in the Heartstone clearing, which was the spiritual if not precisely the physical center of the Vale. They stood quietly, still as statues except for the stirring of their hair in the flower-laden breeze and the tears rolling unheeded down many of their cheeks. Not until Rainsong's pyre had been completely reduced to ashes and the sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon did Starfire break the heavy silence.

"Friends," he said, "today we have mourned the death of our beloved friend and colleague. Now let us honor her memory by setting aside our tears and celebrating her life. We should take our example from her bondbird, who in this matter shows much wisdom. Even as Kytha has bonded anew, so should we carry on with our lives, treasuring Rainsong always as a dear memory but not allowing her loss to take our own joy from us. She would not have had it any other way." With that, Starfire strode from the clearing as _hertasi_ lit lamps along all the pathways of the Vale, brightening the gloom that was beginning to settle on the Vale as the sun disappeared. The gathered Tayledras stirred and began to separate, scattering down various paths that led to other clearings. Only this clearing remained dark, faintly lit by the pulsing light from the softly glowing Heartstone and the smoldering embers of the pyre.

Winddancer touched Kamren's arm. "Come," he said, "let us go join the celebration." Kamren nodded, the feather Winddancer had given him bouncing amid his curls with the motion. "Perhaps," Winddancer suggested slyly, "you might be willing, at some point this evening, to grace us with that other new song you've been working on so secretly these past few days."

Kamren smiled slightly. "I would have to find some kind of instrument to borrow first, and learn how to play it," he demurred. "I haven't had time to make myself a new lute yet, and it absolutely requires accompaniment."

Winddancer smiled coyly. "I'm sure you'll manage something," was his cryptic reply. Kamren pressed Winddancer to explain, but the Tayledras Adept resisted all Kamren's attempts. Finally, Kamren gave in and followed Winddancer's lead, resigning himself to finding out the secret when his lover was ready to reveal it.

For the next few hours, Kamren and Winddancer moved from clearing to clearing around the Vale, eating, drinking, talking, and enjoying performances. Musicians, dancers and storytellers of several species including _hertasi_, _tervardi, _and the stag-like _dyheli_ mixed in with the humans had showed up to honor Rainsong and to celebrate the removal of the powerful Blood-Adept from the edge of Tayledras territory.

They eventually made their way to the large clearing where Kamren's welcome concert had been held. In spite of its size, it was more crowded than most of the other clearings had been, and Kamren craned his neck to see who the entertainer was. Not seeing any obvious performer, he turned to Winddancer, intending to ask why everyone was gathering here, but he never got the chance. Winddancer was looking at him with a huge grin on his face. "So how about that new song?" he asked, holding out a lute.

Kamren gave a cry of surprise and snatched the instrument from Winddancer's hands, examining it carefully. It was similar in style to his old one, but this one was lacking the chips and nicks the other had acquired through travel. It was decorated with wood inlay of various colors set in an intricate pattern twining around the neck and belly of the instrument. Kamren tested the strings; the lute was perfectly tuned, and had a rich, mellow tone. He looked up with his eyes shining in wonder. "Where did you get this?" he breathed.

Winddancer was still grinning. "One of the _hertasi_ living in the Vale is a master craftsman of musical instruments; he makes most of those used here. I asked him to copy your lute not long after you got here; I had thought to give this to you when you went back to Valdemar. He was confident he could duplicate it properly; I hope he was successful."

Kamren brushed his fingers across the strings again, feeling the entire instrument hum. He slid the strap of etched leather over his head and felt the lute settle comfortably against his body. He played a few scales, then picked out an intricate fingering exercise. When he had finished, he looked up at his lover. "It's…beautiful. Perfect. I don't know how to thank you." He leaned over and hugged Winddancer awkwardly around the bulk of his new lute.

"You can thank me by finally playing that song!" Winddancer's eyes twinkled as he returned the embrace. "Now you have no more excuse," he added impishly.

Kamren fiddled with the strings, double-checking the tuning, while at some hidden signal the Tayledras in the clearing arranged themselves into a circle. When everyone was seated, he cleared his throat and was immediately greeted with silence. Even the bondbirds in the trees stopped moving and were still. "I have not fully mastered your language yet," he began in Tayledras, "so I hope you will forgive me if the words are awkward. Even so, I felt that this was an event important enough to be set to music. Here, then, is the tale of Sasseth's Defeat."

"As birds from Winter's gloom awoke to sing

And early flow'rs their perfume forth did fling

A solitary horseman outward rode—

Behind him on his horse a lute was stowed.

His clothes of Scarlet to the world displayed

A Bard he was and at each stop he played.

His golden voice the list'ners mesmerized

His chestnut curls his audience all prized.

From Haven southward wended he his way

At Kata'shin'a'in his songs to play.

Yet ere his journey brought him to its end

Waylaid he was by beasts with claws to rend.

Ferocious creatures magic-Changed they were

With fangs a hand-span long and short sleek fur.

Twin tails of serpents barbed with poisoned tips

Lashed side to side, foul stench came from their lips.

For days they chased him westward from his road

Into the Pelagiris, their abode.

He found a rocky clearing on a hill

In which to turn and fight, his foes to kill.

Exhaustion-fogged he slid down off his horse

And drew his sword, enringed by Changebeast force.

Poor horse within a minute was devoured,

Yet Bard by foes o'rwhelmed did not turn coward.

And though against six 'Beasts he bravely fought

He took too many wounds in the onslaught.

He woke to find himself in Tayledras nest

Being Healed and tended by the very best.

Golden of skin, his eyes were palest blue

To his waist hung hair of silver hue.

Bleached purest white because of all his spells

Entwined in it were feathers, beads, and bells.

The Council met, discussing Changebeast deeds

A mage controlled the 'Beasts, of blood-path creed.

He was an Adept, the council did declare

And near the Vale he had to have his lair.

Scouts were sent, his hideout to discover,

Out in the hills his Keep they did uncover.

A plan they formed this blood-mage to defeat:

They set a trap to get in his retreat.

As bait the Bard would travel on alone

With magic so his journey could be known.

Mages would also set magical traps

In blood-mage's defenses to make gaps.

Then Tayledras would enter castle drear

And wicked mage would leave upon a bier.

No plan survives engagement with the foe;

The blood-mage was as clever as a crow.

The magic failed, the border remained stout

With Bard on inside, Tayledras without.

The Bard was dragged up many flights of stairs

The face of evil caught him unawares.

His lidless eyes stared out with pupils slit

A fork'd tongue from his lipless mouth did flit.

And yet the snake-like form, though rather thin,

Sent tingles of desire across Kam's skin.

Sight of Kam's lute inflamed Sasseth with rage

It was destroyed in Sasseth's wild rampage.

Down by the gate the Hawkbrothers despaired

'Till Sasseth to defy a young girl dared.

She mindspoke Windancer to say she knew

How Sasseth could be beaten by so few.

She told his weakness, and Winddancer thought

If Kam was smart they just might have a shot.

Winddancer sent a flute up with his bird

Hoping that Kam would take what was proffered.

Kam snatched the flute, knowing it had a reason

And played like it was going out of season.

He poured his Gift into a lulling tune

Before Sasseth could act it made him swoon.

As Sasseth slept his magic spells went slack

Opening up the castle to attack.

The Hawkbrothers came sneaking through the gate

But Sasseth roused enough to see his fate.

He summoned up the strength for one effort

And smashed the flute, ending the short concert.

Undaunted Kamren raised his voice in song

And once again the music swelled out strong.

The mage's eyes once more began to glaze

Yet still he fought the music-induced haze.

Winddancer burst into the dazzling light,

Squinting his eyes against the sunset bright.

He came to rescue Kamren from Sasseth

While scouts below to guardsmen dealt out death.

The mage was not completely unaware,

And short but fierce waged magical warfare.

With Kamren using all his Gift in song

And Winddancer's magic swelling out strong

The Blood-Adept could not evade the knife;

Unknown below Rainsong paid with her life.

After the fight all Sasseth's slaves were freed

(Not least the girl who helped them to succeed).

Then scouts bore Rainsong homeward to the Vale,

And there it was the Bard composed this tale."

Once again Kamren used his Gift to enhance his performance, and the result was gratifying. He finished the song to wild applause. As he found himself mobbed by an adoring crowd, Kamren looked around the sea of smiling faces and realized that he was finally home. He caught Winddancer's eye across the clearing and grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue

"Have you chosen your new usename yet?" Kamren and Winddancer were relaxing on the lush grass at the edge of their favorite trysting pool. Kamren could feel the sun warm on his bare chest where his robe had fallen open, while the spray from a small waterfall lightly caressed his cheeks. He had been in the Vale now for more than a moon, and he still had not declared his new name. As part of his integration into the Clan, he had been asked to choose a name after Tayledras custom. Already he was starting to see other changes that signaled his assimilation. As he let his hair lengthen it was getting gradually straighter, and he had already found a couple white strands among the brown, probably from his introduction to the Heartstone. His skin, too, was gradually darkening, taking on more of the golden tone common to the Tayledras and their Shin'a'in cousins. Except for his chestnut hair and green eyes, he would soon be indistinguishable from the rest of the Clan. Some day even the tell-tale hair would fade, and only the eyes remain to remind everyone that he was born an Outlander.

"I think I will choose Summersong," Kamren answered, suddenly feeling bashful. A name was a very personal thing to the Tayledras, reflecting something of the personality of the individual. Occasionally, a Tayledras would even change his usename if something so drastic happened as to change his personality to the point were the old name was no longer appropriate. Kamren had thought long and hard about his choice. "I feel it describes who I have become. My life in Valdemar was a sort of winter, cold and lonely. Here, I feel I have stepped into summer. It will take me some time to get used to a new name, though. I've been Kamren all my life."

Winddancer smiled his understanding and approval, then abruptly got to his feet and walked over to the heap of clothing they had left well away from the edge of the pool to save them from getting wet as they splashed in the waterfall.. Kamren sat up to watch curiously as Winddancer rummaged through the pile, admiring the muscular legs where Winddancer's short robe revealed the bare skin beneath. Apparently finding what he was looking for, Winddancer came back holding something out of sight behind his back, and knelt in front of Kamren so their faces were only an arms length apart. He held out a large, snow-white feather with a pair of leather thongs attached to the elaborately beaded shaft. "Summersong," he said formally, "will you wear my feather for all the world and skies to see?"

Surprised into speechlessness, Kamren was unable to do more than nod. Winddancer reached up to fasten the primary into Kamren's still-unruly hair. That done, he took the Bard into his arms and kissed him long and deeply.

When they broke apart, Kamren looked up awkwardly at Winddancer. "I'm afraid I don't have any feathers from Kytha yet," he began. "I wish I could…" He was interrupted by a loud rustling in the branches directly above his head. Startled, he looked up in time to see a mottled brown and white primary feather drifting out of the tree.

_:Molting. Itches,:_ Kytha complained, and Kamren heard her shifting into a more comfortable position. Winddancer's laugh told Kamren that the Adept had also been privy to the owl's communication. It took a moment before Winddancer was able to control his mirth.

"It seems," Winddancer gasped, wiping his eyes, "that your bondbird approves! Kytha should not be molting for another few weeks." Still grinning, he accepted the feather Kamren gravely offered. Correctly interpreting Kamren's slightly chagrined expression, he reached out and took the Bard's hand. "We can have the _hertasi_ who decorated yours design a matching pattern for mine," he assured his newly handfasted partner. Kamren smiled, then gently took the feather out of Winddancer's hand, laying it carefully on the grass before slipping out of his robe and letting it puddle on the soft grass. Winddancer followed suit, and Kamren took him into his arms.

"I love you," Kamren whispered into Winddancer's ear. Winddancer did not get a chance to answer as the Bard thoroughly and expertly took his breath away. The last thing Kamren noticed before he stopped paying attention to anything but the man beside him was a distinct sense of approval from _two_ bondbirds in the tree above them.

2


End file.
